


Entrez dans L'Avenir

by AnniKay



Series: French Lessons [11]
Category: Glee
Genre: Criminal Minds Cameos, F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi, Other, Stephanie Plum Cameos, Suburgatory Cameos
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-07
Updated: 2019-06-08
Packaged: 2019-07-08 05:52:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 96,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15924215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnniKay/pseuds/AnniKay
Summary: As Commune and their friends begin their junior year of college they begin to understand that they are taking their first real steps into their future.





	1. Rise Up (Andra Day)

**Author's Note:**

> ****THANKS to everyone who has taken the time to review! Your encouragement helps more than you know!****  
> Thank all of you for being avid readers & reviewers of my stories:  
> I appreciate all of you.
> 
> Boredom Busting Fic Reread Rec  
> Scream My Name by amber2011
> 
>  
> 
> DaughterofDarkness87 Thank you for always being such a big help. You have become a fundamental part of this world. 
> 
> JJBelle & Red1FL: Thank you for checking on me. I appreciate my readers for waiting patiently and prodding politely. This Chapter is dedicated to the two of you.

Chapter 1

Rise Up (Andra Day)  
Sam Point of View

Labor Day was supposed to be a day to sleep in. Being up at six in the morning on the holiday just wasn’t natural. But we knew that we didn’t have any real choice. So, we forced ourselves to get up and Noah and I went to catch a quick work out while Mercy headed on into the bathroom to start to get herself together. We’d all showered the night before, but we’d also gotten deeply dirty again before sleep finally claimed us too, so, it was morning showers were a must as well. We’d suggested that she join us for some cardio before her shower, but she said she needed extra time to do something with her hair. By the time the two of us manly men did our quick cardio workout, which may or may not have looked a hell of a lot like Wii Fit step aerobics, and got back up to our bedroom, we were just in time to help Mercy lotion those hard to reach places…like her amazing ass. Then Puck and I decided to share a shower. It didn’t save water and we ended up running late because of it…but it was exactly what the doctor ordered. I’d long ago dealt with my slightly unexpected need for Noah’s cock…but sometimes, the fact that I needed to make love with him every bit as much as I needed to make love with Mercy just struck me breathless.

Just as we were getting out of the bathroom, Bubbie and Kurt arrived with our clothes for the day. “Alright, are the three of you clean, moisturized and all that jazz.” Kurt said in leu of a ‘good morning’.

We nodded. “Even used the face moisturized you said that we had to start using or you would start smacking us with it at breakfast.” Noah added just to be a pain in Kurt’s ass.

“Good,” Bubbie laughed. She disappeared into Mercy’s closet and reappeared with a pretty black lace bra and tanga panty set and a black shaper slip. “Mercy-Cede, go ahead and put those on.” Knowing Ruth Mayzer as she did, Mercy had, wisely, only put on her robe after she’d finished her moisturizing and lotioning routine. “Noah, you and Sammy…the silk CK boxer briefs…purple for Noah and blue for Sam, dress socks to match.” That was where we made up a little of the extra time we’d spent in the shower. It took us less than half the time to dip into our closet, grab our drawers and socks, put them on and get back into the bedroom Ruth and Kurt bustled into our closet and picked out the watches they wanted us to wear for the day.

Kurt and Bubbie took over and in no time flat, my hair was looking done, but not overdone. Puck’s millimeters long stubble had been spritzed with a protector-slash-moisturizer and brushed…though I still thought that was a scalp massage more than real hair brushing. Ruth took Mercy into the bathroom and they worked on her hair while Kurt ‘assisted’, read bullied, Noah and I through getting dressed. By half past seven, we were dressed in the suits they’d selected and tailored for us. Our feet shod in the shoes they felt would go best with the clothes. And it was kind of awesome not to have to even think about what we wore. Mercy came out and she had been poured into a houndstooth, sheath dress with a vee neck and elbow length sleeves that had like, fluttery, trumpet parts that went down to her forearms. The curve hugging dress stopped at the very center of her adorable knees. The dress was so traditional that it might have seemed a little boring, well not really on her sexy body, but maybe on someone else…still, Bubbie hadn’t punched it up with a red belt with two gold, open semi-circles for the buckle. I’d at first glance thought that the circles were Gs meaning that it was a Gucci belt, but Kurt was quick to educate me. “Very close Sam…the semi-circles do resemble Gucci’s double Gs…but Cedes’ belt and her bag are both Salvador Ferragamo…as are your belt, and both Puck’s shoes and belt.” He told me. I didn’t have to ask why…I remembered him once saying that he liked to slip us into similar pieces by the same designer just for ‘subtle thruple-cuteness’. So, I shut up and just admired the physical beauty of my wife as Kurt helped her into a pair of red leather pumps with strappy details over the top of her foot and ankle straps that closed with tiny gold buckles.

Hudson came in with a smile as Kurt was finishing up with Mercy’s shoes. “Her bag?” she asked after greeting us all. Bubbie held up a tote sized purse that was the same scarlet red of the belt and shoes. I wouldn’t have gotten that designer wrong…it had a small gold panel on the front with Ferragamo’s name on it. It even came with a matching cosmetics bag that Kurt quickly grabbed to put Mercy’s touch up stuff into. Hudson took the tote bag with a grateful grin and headed into Mercy’s closet for her iPad. When she came out, she materialized a brand-new set of ten colored fine tip pens from Straedtler. Last semester’s study days had seen Mercy declaring those her new favorite note taking pens ever. I noticed that Hudson had been shopping herself, because she’d brought out Mercy’s usual silver Mont Blanc Classique ballpoint, but she put that pen back and dug into her bag of tricks and soon a gold version of the super pen was placed in Mercy’s tote. Next, she slid in a leather-bound note pad with lots of clean white pages for Mercedes Jones impressions and thoughts during the meeting. Hudson knew Mercy well.

While Hudson was filling the black and brown leather portfolio cases that I knew Noah and I would be carrying to take notes during the meeting…or draw notes in my case…I looked over the Professional PA look she had put together for the day. Our petite personal assistant had braided her hair back into two tiny braids from her temples into a massive French braid that trailed down her back to her waist. Her ears were decorated with classic pearl studs. She was wearing a dark, charcoal gray pants suit with very clean lines and seriously sharp creases. She’d paired the suit with a lovely, light blue ruffle front blouse. Her black pumps were super pointy and super shiny even if they weren’t super tall. She looked good, well kempt, professional, and efficient…but at the same time, there was something really unobtrusive about her outfit. She wouldn’t stand out, but she would be there if needed. Something told me that was exactly what she’d been hoping for. She zipped closed each of the portfolios which now contained a legal pad, yellow for Puck and white for me, our silver Mont Blanc pens and our iPads.

Not long after I’d finished contemplating Hudson, Bubbie and Kurt literally lined us up for a final inspection. Mercedes looked amazing. She hadn’t been to see Rickie yet, but she had worked some kind of magic where her roots had been straightened and the rest of her hair was rolling curls and waves with straight ends. It almost looked like one of her wigs, just not quite as long. Few people would ever realize that when she woke up, it had been a purely natural afro. Her makeup was really light and natural too…almost like she’d woken up flawless and just slid on some lip gloss. Though, that was pretty much what Noah and I thought she did every day. As far as I was concerned, she was perfect without make up. Mercy’s jewelry was yellow gold; simple hoop earrings with a diamond at the top, three gold encased diamonds on a shorter gold chain, and a gold watch with a mother of pearl face. I was pretty sure that despite the simplicity of the jewelry, each piece probably had a designer name attached. I was also pretty sure that the necklace and earrings were from the same person. Kurt and Bubbie had started trying to help me recognize designers and stuff so that, in theory, I wouldn’t need notes on the red carpet any more. I wasn’t sure that it would work, but we’d see.

Noah was proclaimed well turned out and ready next. I recognized his sharp ‘pearl gray’ suit as Hugo Boss. It was paired with a lavender dress shirt, purple texture stripped tie and black Ferragamo driving moccasins. His watch was super silver. Technically, we both had stainless steel watches. But his had a silver face while mine was a navy blue…a shade or two lighter than my Canali suit. My shirt was a light, linen, ivory color and my tie brought the ivory, blue and the brown of my accessories all together. I had lucked out. I got to wear brown Chelsea dress boots rather than uncomfortable dress shoes. Bubbie straightened my tie and ran a loving hand over Noah’s stubble. “Other than wishing that my ‘original grandson’ would grow his hair out a bit more…I declare all of you too fabulous for words.”

“Its too curly.” Noah grumbled under his breath. Mercy and I disagreed. We’d seen pictures of him from elementary school…before he’d cut it into the mohawk. His hair was curly but it was, honestly, gorgeous. I had really nice hair, Noah’s was actively great. But it was his hair, so it was his choice.

Hudson handed each of us our bag or portfolio as we headed out. Bubbie and Kurt took a moment to straighten up behind us, because they were completely awesome like that. Not that we’d made much of a mess, but still they knew our closets better than Vi did, so it was just easier for them to put our stuff away. On the way down, we may have snuck into Lil Darlin’s room and kissed her cute, little sleeping face, before we headed to the kitchen. I should have been surprised to see Dad, Moms D and George at the breakfast bar, since they hadn’t told us that they were coming, but I wasn’t. The meeting with the FBI was about a major safety concern. Of course, our parents were going to make sure that they were there. Dad had even busted out a full suit with a tie and everything. His suit was brown, but his shirt was the same color as mine and his tie was almost identical to my own. I found that funny and weirdly comforting.

George loved Noah. It was clear in the way his eyes had lit up when Puck walked into the kitchen…just like my father’s had when they lit on me. I loved him for that alone. Anyway. George loved his son and he loved me and ‘Cede’ but no way was he wearing a tie except to occasions so formal that his only choice was in the type of tie he could wear. Instead, he wore a blue, black and gray plaid dress shirt under a gray blazer. Granted, he wore them with jeans, but the gray wash jeans looked both designer and brand new so there was no doubt that the effort was there to look more dressed than a normal Monday. Of course, neither Dad nor George looked as put together and ready for whatever the meeting might throw at us as Moms D. She looked super professional in a navy blue, knit business dress with three quarter length sleeves softened with scalloped hems and neckline.

Danica Jones was a beautiful woman. Standing there in our kitchen she looked less like a fifty-year-old oral surgeon and more like the next Black Mrs. America. Her navy dress wasn’t as form fitting as the dress Mercy was wearing, but it did hug her body until the pleated skirt belled at her waist. It was accessorized with pink suede pointy toed pumps, a pinkish taupe bow belt and matching tote bag. Her jewelry was rose gold, the watch highlighted with silver and her necklace and earrings highlighted with mother of pearl. Moms D had done something completely different with her hair. It made me have to suck in a breath of surprise when my brain caught up with my eyes. It looked like she had died it blonde and turned it into locs that went down to her waist. Her own hair was not that long, and she’d not colored it in any of the pictures of her that I had ever seen. She must have seen my look of confusion. “Oh, these are faux locs, Sam-Baby. Veronica talked me into them. What do you think?”

“I think that you’re still the prettiest mother-in-law Puck and I could ever have lucked upon.” I said honestly.

Noah clapped me on my shoulder. As he went over to hug the grown folks. “You look just as gorgeous as your amazing daughters. I bet Benton loves ‘em.” He told her with a wicked grin.

“Boy stop.” She chuckled. I knew that chuckle. It was the same one Mercy gave Artie or one of our friends when they said something that made her remember making love with me and Puck.

Mercy just smiled and went and gave her mother a huge hug. “Momma, I’m not surprised that you guys came. But I thought that the Dads were attached at the hip. How happen you came with these two and Daddy stayed home?”

Moms D grinned. “Your father would have loved to be here with his partners in crime. If it weren’t for the fact that it was a lot easier to clear my calendar for a couple of days than it would have been for your father, you know he’d be here. Just the same as Gabby and Bekah. Hell, if it were possible all six of us would have been here.”

Bubbie laughed. “It might be wrong, but I would so feel bad for those poor FBI agents if they had to deal with all six of you in one meeting. The guys are bad enough, mothers are far more vicious when protecting their young. Why do you think I’m not going? It’s a hard-enough fight every day not to track the SoB down and kill him with my bare hands…if I heard something in that meeting that would make it easier to do…I don’t know that I could continue to resist temptation.”

To move us past that threat of violences, Bautista started shooing everyone towards the dining table. There she had laid out a healthy breakfast of slice of avocado toast with topped with fried eggs and a quinoa and fruit salad. In no time at all we each had filled our plates and were enjoying our meal. As we partook of the delicious food, the conversation was kept pretty light. Dad, Moms D and George told us how Stevie and Stacey were enjoying eighth grade and how Sarah was handling high school. They shared stories about Mother Richardson’s new space and how much fun Sloane and Double A were having at the preschool. Danica even had news about our Pumpkin’s first day of pre-K. Apparently, the Montessori program she’d been in the previous two years had left her very advanced compared to her peers. Given that she was at the older edge of her class, the principal had asked Shelby and Dave to consider advancing her to kindergarten. The hope was to get it all done and over before the kids really got settled into their classes. Everyone was pretty sure that it was a great idea, but it was up to Shels and Dave. As great as the conversation was, we were on a schedule. Woody and Caesar showed up with Hitta and a big ass limo to convey the seven of us and Ethan to the Lower East Side Rangeman NYC offices.

Upon our arrival at the sleek and ridiculously modern reception area of Rangeman New York, we saw that Darcy, Haja and Daniel had beaten us there. They were talking with Ms. Plum and a tall built Rangeman with a tattoo of a flaming skull on his forehead. Interestingly enough, Haja and Mr. Tattoo…whose name was totally escaping me and I kind of felt bad about that…they were looking mighty cozy. Brantley entered right after us and our contingent was complete. Ms. Plum came over and greeted us. “Mercedes, I love those shoes.” She smiled warmly at our wife. “Puck, aren’t you ready to have some hair, yet? I’ve seen your grandmother, mom, uncle…you have great hair don’t you.” not letting him answer she moved to me. “Sam, you and your father look so much alike. But I think you have your mother’s eyes.” I loved Stephanie Plum. She was Jersey through and through…but there was so much southern warmth in her that I couldn’t help but like her. She chatted with all of us as she showed us up to a large conference room on the second floor of the building.

The room held a large rectangular table that had seating for twenty-eight. Ranger Manoso and Ms. Plum were at the center of their side of the square, the head of the table. Arrayed on either side of them were Lester Santos and our account manager, Trigger. Trigger Stapleton was a shorter and stocky, very muscular guy with a blonde crew cut and brown eyes. In talking with him, I’d learned that he’d gone into the Marines to pay for college. By the time we met him, he had a degree in account management and loved math in a deep and strange way which was funny since he looked like the kind of guy who bullied math nerds until they cried. Lester sat next to Ms. Plum and then Trigger was next to Lester. At Ranger’s side was Tank, then Hector and Manny Ramos had the last seat on that side. I had only met Hector and Manny once or twice, but Hector made me more afraid than any other human being I’d ever met…there was something about his very aura that told me that he was an often underestimated danger.

The side of the table against the far wall, the side next to Manny, was filled by members of the BAU. I noticed that the FBI was more diverse than I would have believed. While their center seat was taken by a white male about the same age as my dad and George, there were three women, one of whom was black, and a black guy who totally looked like he could have been a Rangeman himself. I smiled at the dude who looked like a textbook mafia don and when he smiled back, I recognized him as David Rossi. MeMaw loved his books. The last guy, he really threw me for a loop. He had eyes just like mine…Puckett eyes. Not the color. His eyes were more hazel leaning towards brown, but the shape of his eyes…they were definitely Puckett eyes. All the way down to the way they bagged when we didn’t sleep enough. I knew how many sleepless nights it took to create those slender folds, too. I started to say something when my train of thought was interrupted.

“Cede, I just want to point out that of the four male feds here, only one of them is wearing a tie.” Puck grumbled loud enough to make even the tie wearing fed crack something resembling a smile. Something I was pretty sure he didn’t do a whole lot.

“Yes, Noah, I see that only one of them is wearing a tie. However, you are wearing a tie as a sign that we respect the time and effort they are expending to keep me safe in a legal fashion that will allow Corbin Richardson to get what he deserves without me, you, Sam or any of our relatives possibly having to serve time in a maximum-security penitentiary for murder. So, shut the hell up about having to wear that god damn tie before I strangle you with it.” He may have spent the better part of the car ride from Harlem to the Lower East Side complaining about having to wear a tie on a holiday that wasn’t religion centered.

Still, he was smart enough to shut up about the tie as Mercy, Noah and I arrayed ourselves in the three center seats on the side of the table directly across from the FBI agents. Mercy was, as always centered between Puck and I. Ethan took a seat next to me with Haja on his right. Daniel and Hudson sat on Noah’s other side. The three parents, Brantley and Darcy were seated along the last side of the quadrilateral table. Once our team was in place, Ranger started our part of the meeting. I said our part because I was almost positive that Rangeman and the Feds had already discussed somethings that morning. “Allow me to make the introductions. Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner,” tie guy acknowledged the introduction. “He heads the Alpha Team of the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI. He and his team are working to bring down Corbin Richardson and his network of corrupt law enforcement officers and elected officials. To his immediate left is SSA David Rossi, followed by Dr. Tara Lewis, SSA”. The Black woman was tall even seated. She was thinner than Moms D or Mercy, but no where near as emaciated as Arielle Harris. I could honestly say that her eyes were strikingly forthright and intelligent. She personalized her navy-blue suit with a feminine burgundy dress shirt that was left open a very professional two buttons. “At the end is Dr. Spencer Reid, Supervisory Special Agent.” The man with the Puckett eyes was taller still and so very thin I knew MeMaw and Grandma Mae would want to feed him the second they met him. He looked more like a college professor than an FBI agent. His blue check dress shirt and solid purple tie was covered with a blue cardigan rather than a blazer. He was rocking navy Dockers and his shoes were so comfy looking. His eyes, shaped entirely too much like mine, shined with like fifty times more intelligence than mine did. His hair was longer than I’d expect for an SSA, and the same color as mine and Stevie’s…near the end of winter when we’d been out of the sun for too long.

“To his immediate right is SSA Jennifer Jareau,” Agent Jareau was a thinner, but healthy looking, blonde with big blue eyes and a smirk of a smile. She was wearing black slacks and a black blazer with a form fitting navy top. She wore barely any makeup and yet she seemed to be as put together as anything. The thing that struck me was that she seemed to be the smallest female, and yet, the most dangerous woman on their side of the table. “Then we have Technical Analysis Penelope Garcia.” Much like the first time I’d seen the bubbly woman, the first thing that came to mind when looking at Penelope Garcia was WOW. Not in a disrespectful way. I mean, yeah, she was a beautiful woman, if not traditionally so, with a bright and sunny smile. The main reason for the wows was just plain old shock at her career field. Nothing about her said anything at all to do with the FBI. Penelope Garcia was thick…at least as thick as Mercy, if her curves were less pronounced. She was wearing a brilliant aqua dress that lit up her blond curls and brown eyes. It was probably sleeveless from the way the arms of her light beige sweater fit. The sweater was embellished with two branches upon which sat two happy little brown birds. There were bright green leaves arrayed around the branches. In her hair, she wore a matching aqua flower with green leaves to tie in her sweater. Her glasses even matched the flower in her hair. Her necklace, earrings and bracelet all played up the green of the leaves. Her makeup was Mercy or Bubbie perfect. “Finally, we have Supervisory Special Agent Derek Morgan.”

I was man enough to admit that Derek Morgan was, what Santana called, universally hot. He was the most dressed down of the FBI crew. He was wearing a navy smedium Henley that I think was in my closet too. His slacks were more denim than cotton and I was sure that Bubbie would have rather popped him with the belt he was wearing than allow him to wear it in her presence. There were some serious feelings between Morgan and Garcia. We’d seen it the night of our concert. We saw it that morning. With the seven members of the BAU introduced to for us, Ranger then made us and our team known to the BAU. He started with the three of us and worked from there. Then he gave a quick refresher on his team, all of whom were in black suits, though only Ranger, Lester and Manny wore ties. I was pretty sure that Ranger’s and Ms. Plum’s suits were both Armani, Tank’s was FUBU and I think Lester, Trigger and Manny were wearing Ralph Lauren and Hector’s was Brooks Brothers. I was pretty proud of myself for knowing that.

“Now that the introductions are out of the way, Agent Hotchner has the floor.” Ranger told us all bringing the meeting to order.

“Thank you, Manoso.” Aaron Hotchner said calmly. “With the marked escalation of the unsub, Richardson, at the VMAs two weeks ago, it has been determined that we now need to move our investigation into a more active phase. This meeting is the first step in that process. First, we hope to ensure that everyone involved is on the same page.” After going over a list of crimes centered around Richardson’s sick obsession with Mercy that seemed to date back to the very beginning of our music career, Agent Hotchner turned the BAU presentation over to Agent Jareau. 

“Richardson is a blend of what we traditionally refer to as the lust or predatory and acquaintance or intimacy seeking stalker archetypes. He has some pervasive sexual deviations and is currently fixated on Mercedes as his ultimate fantasy.”

Puck looked confused. “Pervasive sexual deviations? What does that even mean? ‘Cause as far as I’m concerned as long as all parties are over the age of consent and they willingly give it, there is nothing deviant about sex.”

Rossi laughed. “I tend to agree with you, Kid. But Richardson has a bad habit of not understanding the concept of affirmative consent. My contacts have put us in touch with several of his previous victims. His MO seems to be to seduce women into sex with him, just to force the woman to then entertain a large number of other men and those men are then allowed to rape Richardson’s victims as well. He seemingly has issues performing in simple, consensual, one on one sex with women for more than a few weeks. Even then without rougher and more dominating activities he becomes less and less able to perform in that context.”

That left me confused. “So why doesn’t he just try and find a woman who enjoys the same things he does?”

Dr. Lewis answered my question. “That’s the problem with his psyche, a woman who enjoys the games he wants to play would not fill the need for the element of force…of dominance. In a true dominant-submissive relationship, the submissive often has far more control than the dominant. This unsub would find that too restrictive, too weak, too limiting for his sexual needs.”

George looked disturbed. “So, a man who cannot get off unless he’s hurting and raping his partner is fixated on our Cedes. Just want to point out that knowing that is making this whole situation worse, not better.”

Morgan agreed. “Unfortunately, when you hear the rest of what we have to share, it’s going to get a lot worse and it’s not going to get better until we catch him.”

Danica sat up straighter. “Well then, Agent Morgan, I’m going to need you all to just tell us what is going on with this asshole, and then tell us exactly how the FBI is planning to handle him. Because right now I’m scared for my daughter and that is making me just want to track the son of a bitch down, make small incisions on his every extremity…every single one, and pour salt water over them all then cover him with honey and stake his ass out on top of a fire ant hill in the desert.”

Stephanie Plum’s voice broke the silence that imagery invoked. “Whoa. That was alarmingly specific…and rather scary. Mothers are frightening when protecting their kids.”

“Babe, your mother ran over a killer in a bunny suit to save you.” Ranger said pointedly. 

Ms. Plum nodded, “yeah, but that was pretty hands off compared to what she just described. I think I want to be like her when I grow up.”

Lester smugly looked around Ranger. “Yeah, when’s that gonna be? Half past never?”

There was a pen thrown, then returned. “Santos, Babe.” Ranger sort of barked. But something told me that he’d let it go on to bring some levity into the room. It was needed. The air had begun to get suffocatingly heavy with the fear we were all beginning to feel. “Hotchner, the floor remains yours.”

Hotchner nodded though something about his face told me he was as amused by the antics of Ms. Plum and Lester as we all were. “The Unsub has begun making moves towards his endgame. Garcia, working with Mr. Gutierrez, have found that he’s set up four different aliases.”

“Seriously high-quality ones, passports, socials, everything.” Penelope Garcia chimed in. She was really, really perky. But one look at Hector and I knew she spoke the truth.

Hotchner gave a slight nod of agreement before continuing. “Under those aliases, he has purchased airline tickets for two people to Bahrain, Dubai, the Maldives, Kuwait and Riyadh. We know that he has properties in three of those five locations, however we haven’t been able to ascertain if he has properties in Kuwait and Riyadh as well.”

“So, he’s planning to head out of the country when he can get his hands on her and go to a country with no extradition?” Darcy asked quietly. “How is he planning to get a drugged or tied up woman, especially one as famous as Mercedes Jones, through airport security?”

“He can’t.” Manny and Morgan said at the same time. “It’s a fucking feint.” Manny Ramos continued.

Morgan finished his thought. “He must have a private plane that he’s planning to use to get her out of the country. Something at a small private airfield.”

“How is he planning to get around a flight plan?” Tank asked.

Rossi chimed in. “He doesn’t have to. If he files one under one of his aliases…he’d be able to fly out without raising any red flags. Garcia, we’ll need to look into private airfields near the remaining concert cities.”

“Not all of them, the ones in Mexico and Canada, maybe Barbados…” I interrupted. “He’s not stupid. It would be harder to get to her and get out of the US than it would another country.”

Hotchner nodded. “Garcia, can you concentrate on Mexico and the French-Canadian stops first. A language barrier would be very beneficial for a kidnapping. It would make it harder for Ms. Jones to ask others for help.”

Dad laughed. “If he’s done his research, he’d go with Mexico. Mercy can speak French like she was born in Paris.”

“That’s definitely something that could work in our favor.” Dr. Reid said thoughtfully.

I studied him for a moment as Garcia started conversing easily with Mercy in rapid French. The more I looked at him, the more I was sure of my earlier assessment. Something about him screamed out to me and declared him family. I listened with half an ear as I tried to figure out the puzzle that was Dr. Spencer Reid. I was able to find a short bio on him online. It didn’t give a lot of information, mainly his educational history and information about his career. With a smile, I was able to focus back on the matters at hand. Well, as soon as I had shot an email to Penny Van Lanen-Hofstadter…her husband Leonard worked at Cal-Tech, where Spencer Reid had completed his undergraduate education and the first of his three doctorates. I shot a text to Darcy asking her to poke into Dr. Reid’s background and hit me with everything that she could find with the tech she had with her.

After the BAU team had shared all the information they’d amassed during their investigation, the Rangeman team took over. We knew almost all of the information they had discovered. Lester had done a great job keeping us in the loop. There was one very surprising fact. “Ramos feels certain that Richardson will more than likely strike at either the Winnipeg or Toronto shows.” Ranger said authoritatively.

Manny Ramos chimed in to explain, “Richardson is a very successful business man. He has enough ties to the music industry to know how concert sales and things like that work. I feel confident that he would, more than likely, wait until after the final show simply because to do otherwise would cause problems from a financial standpoint.”

Dr. Reid, Spencer, looked thoughtful. “This unsub could consider it a gesture of good will to Sam and Mr. Puckerman.”

“Even more than that, he’d believe that by waiting until after the last concert of the tour, it would leave Warner and their deep pockets out of the following fray.” Agent Rossi chimed in.

My Dad raised a point that had entered my mind too. “So, the question then becomes, do we concentrate only on the final concert?”

Ranger shook his head, but it was Tank that verbalized the Rangeman answer on the issue. “No, that would leave us flat-footed if we are over or underestimating him. Just as, while we might increase coverage at the Francophone and Hispanophone tour dates, we won’t run a short shift at the English speaking stops.”

“Moving forward, it might be wise to ascertain the caterers at the remaining venues.” Hotch suggested. “I know that, traditionally you’ve done background checks on the bartenders at the after party locations. But it would make just as much sense, and perhaps even be easier for the Unsub to try and cultivate the caterers that are handling KAMA’s after concert refreshments. That would allow him to drug Ms. Jones, or if he is as intelligent as he believes himself to be, all three of them.”

“Why all three of them?” Brantley asked curiously.

Derek Morgan picked up on his boss’ theory. “If the Unsub is smart, he would know that taking out Evans and Puckerman, without causing them long term harm, would give him a longer window of time to get Jones away and under control. That’s especially true if he concentrates on the time after the concert. That not only gives him more time, it gives him far fewer prospective witnesses than trying to kidnap her from a bar or a club.”

“That makes a certain amount of sense.” I said cautiously. My iPad dinged as I received a file from Darcy. When I opened the file, the very first thing I saw threw me for a loop. Darcy had managed to find a CV with a picture of Spencer’s mother, a woman who looked amazingly like Pamela Puckett and Sue Sylvester. Once again, the Puckett genes bred true. I didn’t get it though. Our family was seriously clanish. How did no one know about Diana Reid or her son? It hadn’t taken Girl Sam long to figure out that Coach Sylvester was probably the daughter of one of PaPaw’s sister’s. His eldest sister had gone off to fight the Nazis way back in the day and no one in the family had ever heard from her thereafter. I felt really bad that I hadn’t figured it out myself before Cousin Jean passed. Especially since I’d heard the stories same as all of us and been right there…I could have, at least talked to her. I’d tried one time to let Coach Sylvester know that we shared a family and was cut off at the knees. I was just happy that it wasn’t literally.

Anyway…apparently genius ran in that branch of the family tree. Diana Wright Reid had graduated high school at fifteen and had earned her doctorate by nineteen. By the time she was thirty she was diagnosed with schizophrenia. Suddenly I knew exactly what happened. “Cousin Taby and Cousin Annie. They were actually triplets not just twins.” I blurted out looking Spencer Reid dead in his face. “Their momma was my PaPaw’s youngest sister, Auntie Phoebe. She almost died having the twins because she went into labor by herself after visiting Lake Tahoe to gamble. She said a nurse saved her and helped her deliver the twins before the doctor got there. But the nurse disappeared before PaPaw and the family got there to get Auntie Phoebe and her girls.”

The FBI agents all looked at me then looked at Reid. Then they looked at each other. The whole room was looking at each other in confusion. “I’m sorry. What?”

I flipped my iPad around. “His momma looks just like Tabitha and Angelica Puckett and Angelica’s daughter Pamela. The only other woman I know who shares that great a resemblance to those three…she’s family even if she doesn’t want to admit it. I don’t know what happened exactly, but Taby and Annie…they have always said that a piece of them was missing. Cousin Annie, she was diagnosed with schizotypal personality disorder long time back. Her poetry is amazing…makes you cry every single time. Cousin Taby has, um. Well, I can’t remember how to say it, but it starts with Schizo too. She paints though. Both of them are smarter than half the rest of us combined. So are Girl Sam and her twin sister Melanie, Pam’s daughters. Even if Girl Sam doesn’t like to admit it. She’s from that side of the family too.”

“I’m…sorry.” Reid tried to brazen his way out. But I knew.

“Just stop. You even lie like me. Your momma, your eyes…I’m betting you babble too. You’re a Puckett. I can feel it down to the very root of me.” Mercy grabbed my hand hoping to soothe me and keep me calm. I might have been getting a little manic.

There were a lot of assessing looks. Everyone from the Rangeman team, Spencer’s team and Team KAMA were cataloging the It was Manuel Ramos who translated what Hector had to say about what he’d quickly found while everyone else was trying to figure out if what I was saying was true. “June Wright Nurse and mother of Diana Wright, only child. She passed away before your eighth birthday. She and her husband, an auto mechanic named, Matthew, also deceased, moved to Reno, unexpectantly in July nineteen sixty with their infant daughter Diana. Doctor Reid, if she did steal your mother from her family, there is no one left to be punished for the crime.”

“The two of you do have the same shaped eyes. Your hands are kind of the same. And oh yeah, your grandmother and grandfather left Truckee, California for the much larger Reno in one hell of a hurry, Boy Genius.” Garcia spoke up. “Heck, he even rambles like you do.”

Spencer Reid looked scared, and kind of mad. “You don’t understand.”

I shrugged. “I understand that nobody who is my blood kin should ever look as lonely in a crowd of people as you do. I see that your friends, they are worried for you. But I’m not a threat. I don’t want to do anything but let you know that you and your mom…you’ve got family out there who, even though we’ve never met y’all, love you. Hell, she don’t even have to stay in whatever place she’s in. Cousin Taby and Cousin Annie they live together with their care takers, a couple of younger Puckett cousins who make sure that they get their meds and have what they need. Cousin Diana could live with her sisters. Might be good for all three of them to finally feel whole.”

“She…doesn’t do so well with strangers.” Spencer finally said. “And my team is my family.”

I nodded. “I get that. Trust and believe me…I can completely understand making a family of those people you’ve walked through fire with or would do so for. And I don’t actually want to shove myself into your world. But I just…sometimes my mouth just starts to run, and my filters don’t catch what they should.”

“That must be a genetic trait, huh, Pretty Boy.” Morgan teased. “So Hotch, does this change the plan?” Spencer looked grateful as all get out for the return to the reason for the meeting.

“Wait, what plan?” Mercy asked.

Hotch looked thoughtful. “It is rare for us to bring a victim in on the case like this, but for the next planned steps, we will need your cooperation.”

“If it’s going to keep my daughter safe…you have the cooperation of every single soul in this room.” Danica assured them.

“Hell yeah. Of course you do. What do you need us to do?”

“We need, ideally, to insert two of our agents with your tour for the remaining tour stops.” Agent Jareau stated calmly.

“Can we have Spencer?” I blurted out before I could stop myself.

My father’s voice cut through the room before anyone else could say anything. “Samuel Craig Evans.” His voice was stern and sharp…filling the room without anyone getting even the impression that he was yelling. “Leave it for now. Let Dr. Reid have time and room to figure out how he feels about all of this.” I wanted to point out that it hadn’t seemed like it was news to the genius. But Daddy knew me well. “Just because a thing is known doesn’t mean it’s been emotionally processed. You Pucketts are a lot to deal with under the best of circumstances. Let the man get his legs back under him. I know you’re enthusiastic about getting to know him and welcoming him back into the clan…but let your cousin breathe and let his boss talk.”

I hung my head in embarrassment at the chastisement and shame at the need for it. “Yes Sir. Sorry Spencer.”

Aaron Hotchner looked a little amused but he was also giving my father an appraising look. In fact, he looked like he wanted to be Dad when he grew up, which was kind of funny since they looked to be almost the same age. Thankfully though, he didn’t pay any more attention to the Puckett family drama. “As Agent Jareau stated, we need you to accept two federal agents into your touring entourage. Unfortunately, Dr. Reid would, probably, not be a good fit for this assignment.”

“Okay, so which of your agents can sing or dance?” Mercy asked beside me. “Dr. Lewis?” she guessed.

The older Black woman shook her head with a chuckle. “Oh no…out of respect for the possibility that the natural sponge I use was at one point sentient, I don’t even sing in the shower.

Agent Jareau as a dancer was Noah’s guess. “No. I played soccer and softball. Chorus and dance were not my thing at all.”

“No, Agent Jareau is not our hoped for choice. Though I do believe that, given enough time, she could learn the required dances. Our suggestion would be to get people into positions that remain behind the scenes, having agents in front of the cameras could tip our hand to the Unsub. We would like to concentrate our agents in and around KAMA’s dressing room and catering while allowing Rangeman’s guards to continue to focus on overall safety and not letting the Unsub know that security has been ramped up at all.”

The three of us looked at each other and then we looked at Haja and Brantley. They looked as uncertain as we felt “So, how would that be managed?” I finally asked.

“We have several options available to us.” Agent Hotchner said calmly. “There are agents who specialize in going undercover. We could utilize two of them. They’d be placed as one of those ubiquitous job titles that no one knows what they actually do so they would have freedom to come and go as necessary.”

Ranger and Ms. Plum exchanged a long look. “Given what we know of Richardson’s bribery and corruption of LEOs…we wouldn’t be comfortable with having two miscellaneous people that close to Mercedes, Sam and Puck.” Ms. Plum said thoughtfully.

Agent Rossi smirked at her. “To be honest, we actually had a similar thought as well. But we wanted to present all possible options.”

“So, what option is your ideal?” Haja asked pointedly.

Morgan spoke up. “It would be two of our team, preferably myself and Garcia…I’d act as your personal trainer while Baby Girl would step in as Ms. Lewis’s assistant handling on the road social media.”

“But what about your real jobs?” Darcy stepped in.

“There is an agent from the Fugitive Task Force that we’ve asked to step in for Agent Morgan as needed. Unfortunately, Garcia is far less replaceable.” I got the feeling that Agent Hotchner was teasing both of his agents with his statement as much as he was answering Darcy’s question. “Since it would be difficult for the BAU to do our jobs without Garcia and it would be difficult for their covers to be maintained if she and Morgan are not seen as part of your entourage on a fairly regular basis, we would find it very beneficial if you could allow her to utilize some office space to set up her…”

“I’ll need to set up my travel Babies so that I can work remotely without exposing anyone to the horrors that our fellow human beings can create.” Agent Garcia finished for him.

“That shouldn’t be a problem…well, after this week. Mrs. Abrams, their business manager and, Mr. Zizes, their human resources guru will be in town for a couple more days to take some necessary meetings.” Hudson pointed out.

“Can everything be in place by the fourteenth?” Morgan asked thoughtfully. “We could start in Puerto Rico and then Garcia can set up her space on Monday when we return.”

It was funny that we all looked at Hudson to answer that. “I can certainly make sure that happens. Are you going to need lodgings?”

“The FBI has several safe houses throughout Manhattan. For this assignment, Morgan and Garcia have been allotted an apartment in Midtown South. I will ensure that they have time before they meet you Friday to move some of their things into the space.” Agent Hotchner answered.

Hudson made a note on her pad. “We fly out of LaGuardia Friday evening at seven. If I can get your emails, preferably not your work ones, I’ll email you the itineraries for the remaining tour stops.”

Garcia nodded. “Thank you. Oh and I guess I should ask, given the fact that Mercedes is already being hailed as a fashionista, do I need to make changes to my usual style?”

We all checked her out. Unlike the other FBI representatives, she wasn’t wearing dark colors. Her outfit looked bright and colorful. It was coordinated and, while not exactly fashion forward, it looked great on her. Mercy gave her a huge smile. “You look great. You are well groomed and well put together. That is all we ask of our staff, team and crew. I’m seriously in love with your shoes. I love fashion…but I am not a traditional fashionista. I don’t try and follow trends. I hope the one setting them.”

“Oh goodie. Because honestly, they still haven’t trickled down the changes you’ve begun with the haute couture set to the more FBI budget friendly stores yet.”

“Trust and believe that we know the truths you speak.” Moms D laughed charmingly. “But at least it seems that things are finally starting to get better on that side of life.”

Stephanie Plum chuckled. “My friend Lula…she gave up. I think she just does whatever she wants when it comes to clothes.”

Ranger shook his head in clear consternation. In fact all of the Rangemen had interesting looks on their faces at the mention of Ms. Plum’s friend. “I would also like to insert Stephanie back in as Ms. Friedman’s assistant. She successfully utilized the role in the past and it would give us another set of eyes that are expected to remain backstage at or near the primaries. Additionally, either Tank, Lester or myself will join you on each of the remaining tour dates.”

There was a bit more discussion, including finding out that after that weekend’s trip, Ranger was going to allow us to utilize the Rangeman company plane which was actually a retrofitted military cargo jet. The Boeing C-17 Globemaster III was big enough to carry all of us. It had been upgraded and furnished to transport human beings in relative luxury and still had a cargo hold big enough to haul all our and Rangeman’s gear. Even better for us, it was in no way, shape, form or fashion one of those small private planes that scared the hell out of Mercy. But the absolute best part was that Ranger was so happy about some seriously lucrative contract that he said was a direct result of his company’s association with us, that he was only charging us the cost of the fuel and pilot rather than their usual rate for the use of the plane. The meeting had started at nine in the morning. After it was finally over, Rangeman treated us to a nice lunch of some seriously amazing salads and high quality sandwiches, on what I was almost positive was homemade wheat bread.

I took Dad’s words to heart and spent the luncheon speaking with Agent Morgan, bringing him up to speed on Noah, my, and to a lesser extent, Mercy’s workout regimens. He said that he would help augment them on the road with self-defense exercises, but otherwise he thought our group workouts were being done in a very smart way. I tried to pay attention to the conversation going on between Ms. Garcia, Hector and Darcy, but it was both in a different language and above my head. Hector only spoke Spanish and Garcia didn’t speak it at all despite her name, so Darcy was translating for him. But all three of them spoke technology in a way that I just couldn’t follow.

Puck and Hudson had made their way over to where Ranger, Agents Hotchner and Rossi, Uncle Ethan and The Parents were talking. He told us later that the discussion was mainly centered around the parents desire to understand why the son of a bitch had become so obsessed with Mercedes. Ultimately, it seemed to come down to the fact that Richardson was a crazy bastard who was not used to encountering any woman that he felt immediately drawn to and yet who he was sure that he had less than no chance with. The fact that the beautiful and gorgeous and sexy woman that was Mercedes Jones didn’t cater to him or even care who he was had launched an infatuation that had melded with a major case of rich male entitlement, an already dangerous psyche and grown into something much darker. Mercedes had anticipated the directions of Noah and my separate conversations and avoided them by speaking with the remaining FBI agents, Lester, Tank, Haja, Brantley and Daniel about the logistics of including the three additional people and how to make their made up jobs look realistic.

Things were wrapping up and I was itching to talk to Dr. Re- Spencer…I just couldn’t make myself call family by their formal name and title. He was in a conversation with Agents Jareau, Hotchner and Dr. Lewis as the rest of us gathered our things. I saw the look my father was giving me and knew better than to approach the tall, lanky blond, So, I almost sighed in relief when he came over to me as everyone was heading out. “Umm, I…I’ve never had much family. It’s been just me and my mom since I was ten.”

“What happened to your dad?”

“He, uh, left us when I was ten. He couldn’t take it…there was some drama. I was too smart and Mom’s mental illness worsened…he left.” Spencer said quietly.

“So wait, he left a ten year old kid alone with a paranoid schizophrenic who was in crisis?” I heard my dad ask over my shoulder. “I don’t suppose that you happen to know where he is now?” Yeah, nonchalance was not something my dad could pull off any better than I could. Stevie was much better at it than either of us.

Morgan smirked, as he joined us, slapping Spencer on the shoulder with clear brotherly affection. “William Reid actually lives on Knoll Avenue in Las Vegas. About fifteen minutes from where Spencer grew up. He’s lived there for most of the years since he walked Spencer and Ms. Diana.” I was texting Cousin Johnny, who was driving the KAMA trucks back as we were in the meeting to see if he could swing through Vegas and let Mr. William Reid know that what had done was so fucking unacceptable, it needed a new fucking word.

“Morgan.” Spencer chided. “Do you know what you’ve done?”

The smile on the Black man’s face was positively evil. “You wouldn’t let Baby Girl give him credit problems. You wouldn’t let me, Prentiss or JJ educate him on being a real man. You wouldn’t let Rossi and his connections educate him on being a real father. So, now he’s going to get educated by the people who would have seen to his education a long time ago if things had been different.”

Spencer shook his head. Something told me that he knew very well that his team hated his father and that they had been looking for a way to get retribution for the way he’s abdicated his responsibilities to his young son. Instead of refighting a battle that was now, well and truly, out of his hands, he turned back to me and handed me his card. “Umm, I…if you want to talk. I’m not ready to go full Puckett.”

“Actually, you can’t go full Puckett…you’re in law enforcement.” I joked. “Don’t feel bad, I haven’t gone ‘full Puckett’ either.”

“Yes, well…I just. You can call. I don’t particularly care much for checking emails. I put my mailing address on there. I can do real letters. I like to read.” Spencer said offering me an olive branch.

“Okay, but I’ve gotta warn you. I’m not from the genius branch of the family tree. I have dyslexia and really crappy handwriting.” I said with a self-deprecating smile.

Spencer shrugged. “It can’t be worse than Morgan’s or some of our unsubs.” He assured me. “I, uh, I’m sorry. I guess that I never thought about what it must be like for Mom’s family. I only found out a little over a year ago. She has early onset Alzheimer’s and wanted me to know in case she forgot. Her mother, the woman who raised her, told her on her death bed, but made her swear that she wouldn’t go looking for her birth family…said they were bad people.”

“Only some of them. A lot of Pucketts have an interesting relationship with the law. They’ll keep the big ones that make sense to them like they wouldn’t commit murder without a really good reason…but the stupid ones or the ones that keep them from doing something they really, really want to do…those they ignore at will.” Dad explained easily. “But the flip side of that is that they love better than any other family I’ve ever seen. They may fight amongst themselves. They are as competitive as any human beings you’ve ever seen…but if you are theirs then they will tear down the world to keep you safe.”

He looked at his team and, in that moment, I knew that he could understand that. I was pretty sure that he was about to say something to that point. But his brother from another mother spoke up instead. “You can never have too may ride or die people in your corner.”

“Well, you don’t get too much more ride or die than us Pucketts. If it weren’t for a cousin in LA, who knows how long it would have taken to get the Macardo info.” I muttered the last sentence. I certainly didn’t want to get Gino in any trouble with the Feds. Rangeman knew, but they agreed that Gino had totally done the right thing.

Spencer gave me a grin that I was pretty sure didn’t see the light of day near as often as it should. Granted, I was also pretty sure that his smile showed up more often than his boss’. The Feds were ushered out and we had a bathroom break before we joined our Rangeman team in a smaller, more intimate conference room. It wasn’t even two in the afternoon and the day already felt as if it should be time for bed. But there were miles to go before we slept.


	2. Let ‘Em Say (Lizzo & Caroline Smith)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A very busy start to the new school year.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ****THANKS to everyone who has taken the time to review! Your encouragement helps more than you know!****  
> Thank all of you for being avid readers & reviewers of my stories:  
> I appreciate all of you.  
> Boredom Busting Fic Reread Rec  
> Our Little Secret by DreaC
> 
> DaughterofDarkness87 Thank you for always being such a big help. You have become a fundamental part of this world.

Chapter 2

Let ‘Em Say (Lizzo & Caroline Smith)  
Mercedes PoV

Our day was full no matter how we tried to slice it. After we finished with the BAU meeting, we met with our Rangeman team to understand their insights on what we’d learned from the Feds. Manny was truly invaluable in doing so. “The Feds are playing this as a long game. Yes, they are helping us to keep you safe. For the BAU team, I’m pretty sure that it is a primary motivation. But they are being allowed to do so by the upper brass because it gets the FBI one step closer to an air tight case against Richardson for racketeering and corruption.”

“How so?” George asked thoughtfully.

Surprisingly, it was Tank who answered. “Right now, almost all of Richardson’s possible Federal charges branch off from evidence gathered in the course of his stalking you. The tighter things are in your particular case…”

“The less likely any of the evidence will be thrown out in the off-branching cases.” I finished for the huge, quiet gentleman.

They all nodded. “Exactly, in fact, a criminal conviction in this case of stalking, attempted abduction, attempted assault, and several of the other possible charges, strengthens all the cases of corruption and could get the dirty cops and politicians to start rolling over on each other.” Lester explained. “And that is the Fed’s ideal. That will enable them to catch everyone involved rather than just the low men on the totem pole and their money man.”

“Well, then, at least something good can come from all of this.” I said quietly.

Tank looked over at me. Then he turned to Mom and the Dads. “You guys should be so proud of your kids. They have been forced to handle something that most people two and three times their age would have trouble dealing with. But they’ve always kept their cool and looked at everything that has happened in a positive manner. I don’t know that many other folks who could maintain such a strong sense of not only self, but how their troubles affect others.” He told them sincerely. Looking at his friends and co-workers at the table with him, I was pretty sure that that was the most any of them had ever heard him say at one time.

Sander thanked him. “I think I can speak for all of us when I say that we are so very proud. They’ve learned to be better, stronger, people than we are. Because, let me tell you, every day, its takes everything within me to not track this son of a bitch down and put two right between his eyes. I don’t care that it would leave too many corrupt politicians and whatever else. I don’t care that he’d probably be getting off kind of easy…with a nice quick death. I don’t care that it would be vengeance rather than justice. I don’t even care that if I got caught, I would serve time. I know that Mercy would be safe and Sam and Noah would happier. That’s what’s important to me.”

Ranger nodded. “Mr. Evans, I won’t tell you not to worry, that’s not something a parent can ever truly set aside. I will say this. If we at Rangeman truly feels that the FBI will not succeed in putting Corbin Richardson behind bars for at least the rest of his life, we will make sure that he is never again a danger to Mercedes or any other young woman. In addition to the FBI, we’re also working with the NYPD to nail him on first degree murder in the death of a prostitute near the beginning of his stalking. The LAPD are also hoping that with the resolution of this part of the case they will be able to add at least three charges of drug facilitated sexual assault that happened after the Grammys. My contacts in Eastern Europe want to know if we can tie him to a particular drug cocktail that was used in rapes throughout several of the places he visited when he was there in February and March as well.”

I couldn’t even think of what to say to that. “Why?” I breathed. “I don’t understand why he is doing these things.”

Manny sighed but he tried to explain the unexplainable. “Unfortunately, like a lot of serial killers; and he fits the bill pretty universally even if he’s only actually committed one murder, we think; Richardson’s actions and motives will probably only ever make sense to himself. Its part of the psychosis involved. A large part of it is entitlement and even privilege. Despite not being all that attractive, Richardson grew up lower upper class and only amassed more wealth. During his time at Penn State, there were a string of unprosecuted gang rapes associated with his fraternity. While my gut says that they were his handiwork and not necessarily the beginning of his predilection, we don’t have any way to prove it. There was a noticeable increase of the same at Harvard from nineteen eighty-seven to eighty-nine. He craves and amasses money and power because those two things allow him to get past the things he lacks and allows him to pull in his victims. Once he has them in his net he then uses his money and the corrupt officials he has in his pockets to glean even more power over them by forcing them to remain silent on what he’s done to them.”

Sam looked around at all of us. “So, what are we supposed to do now? Do we just act like nothing’s going on?”

“Actually, that’s the best thing you can do. Both for the case the FBI is preparing and for your bottom line.” Ms. Plum said with a reassuring smile.

“And that’s from an expert.” Ranger said quietly. “I don’t know of anyone else who has had more experience with stalkers and being stalked than you do, Babe.”

She gave him a seriously authoritative eye roll but then negated it by nodding in agreement. “I’ve been stalked by pretty much every single type of stalker you can get stalked by. In fact, I’ve been stalked so many times, I’ve lost count.” She admitted scrupulously. “That being said the best way not to let this Richardson guy know that we’re onto him is to go about your daily duties like you always would.”

“So, what you guys are basically saying is that we need to take his power.” Noah said quietly. “He’s like Freddy Kruger in that movie where it was him versus Jason. The adults in the town made sure that the kids couldn’t dream that took their fear away and with their fear went Freddy’s powers. So, Stephanie was right, we have to make sure that we show the world a brave face and go about business as usual.”

“Okay,” I drawled the word. I loved him, but even I knew that there was a real reason he and Finn had been such good friends for so very long. “So, we’ll go about our day to day life and I’ll make sure that if I need to have a meltdown, I do so in the privacy of our bedroom.” I joked…sort of. I brushed off their concern. I really was just kidding. For the most part. “I do want to thank you for the offer of the use of your plane for our later dates. Haja and Hudson will make sure that you and your team have everything you need for your flight plans.”

Thankfully, everyone was kind enough to allow me to change the subject. We now knew what we had to do. We had to gird our loins and pretend that all was well with our world, no matter what horrors we knew about what my stalker was planning and how truly crazy he really was. With a smile, Ranger kept the conversation moving forward in the new direction. “That will be fine. I know that you have a lot on your schedule for the evening, but I wanted to let you know that over the course of the coming year to eighteen months, even with the introduction of the Rangeman Middle America offices opening this coming fall, we’re moving our company headquarters to Manhattan and changing Trenton to satellite office status.”

“Wow, um, congratulations.” Sam said excitedly.

Noah chimed in too. “Yeah, congrats and after we get this whole stalker situation handled…well, and the tour finished up, we’ll try and keep things low key so you can focus on your shit, Man.”

Ranger looked nonplussed. Though I was fairly certain that he made it a point to show as little facial expression as possible in every given situation. “Our association with KAMA has proven to be quite lucrative for Rangeman. And our association with Commune has proven to be very beneficial for many of our core team and staff. Never feel as if you need to back burner yourselves for us.”

I was very truly happy for them. I told them as much. “All of you seem like you’re truly honorable men and Ms. Plum. I’m very glad to see your success.” It was definitely true. They were good and honorable men. Well, good might not have been the right word, maybe righteous was better. They might not always follow the letter of the law, but they believed in doing what was right and that worked for me.

Our trip back up to the brownstone was interrupted a surprise visit to Faina for a steam shower and thruple’s European Body massage. The relaxing treatments were followed by manicures and pedicures. Mom had gotten a hot stone massage too. George and Sander both chose to have deep tissue massages. Then she joined us for the manicures and pedicures. Neither dad had the nails treatments. The surprise spa stop was so very much exactly what the doctor ordered. I felt way more relaxed than I had in quite some time. For a while, I was feeling ten feet tall and bulletproof…until we got home, and I realized that the evening meeting was every bit as important as the morning and afternoon ones had been, but we had less information going into it.

As soon as we walked in the door, Kurt informed us as to the plan for the rest of the afternoon. “Okay its four now. Luckily, the Italians don’t eat as early as we do here in America, so your meeting isn’t scheduled until eight-thirty. That gives you just enough time to hydrate properly after your massage, shower, nap and then you’ll start getting dressed at six.”

We grabbed bottles of water and headed up to our rooms. Even with our tight schedule, Sam, Noah and I still managed to work in some extra stress relief during our shared shower. The combo of massage and lovemaking soothed me into one hell of a nap. The nap was only one hour long, but we slept so deeply that it left all three of us feeling ready for the final part of the day. Besides, after all the time we’d spent on the tour, any time spent with Noah and Sam in our own bed…it was time I not only appreciated, I absolutely cherished it. I also cherished the quiet. But that ended very soon after Bubbie came in to wake us up. Because once she was sure that we were decent, Momma, Nikki, Kurt and Tana joined her. Kurt took charge of getting our clothes for the night all laid out, while Momma took charge of my hair. She was the only one in the room who truly understood natural black hair, especially the in between texture that was my own head of hair. She used gel, spray, a wide flat panel brush and a shit ton of bobby pins to turn my wealth of curls into a coiled, almost braided looking, updo that ran the entire length of my head from front to back with a pretty little coil just hanging onto my forehead. It was certainly an adorable style and kind of made me want to keep my hair natural for a while longer.

To be honest, I’d been thinking about staying natural for a while. Yes, it was more work. Yes, I liked Ricky almost as much as I liked Veronica and he was every bit as good with the tools of their trade as his cousin. I would continue to see him for all of my hair care needs in the city. But I’d been weaving for the last six years. I was feeling the desire for a change. The entire time Momma had been working on my hair, the room had been filled with laughter and gossip and bullshit. It was pretty nice…it felt so normal.

Once my mom was happy with my hair, it was time to get my happy ass into my lingerie and foundation garments. Since Bubbie’s vision for the night was LBD chic. I decided to keep that theme from the skin on out. I was a firm believer in lingerie. I absolutely loved being able to indulge in silk and lace or really good linen or awesomely soft cotton or whatever. Usually for a night like that, I’d have made sure that I wore a bra and panties that matched perfectly. However, given the nature of the dress I was wearing that night, I went for extra shaping rather than perfectly matched lace. I mean the Spanx Spotlight on Lace high waist briefs had some lovely lace on them, but they also provided some nice tummy control. I paired them with a Dita Von Teese underwire balconette bra that was super sexy and the perfect color fit with the briefs and the Shape My Day Open-Bust slip that came from Spanx as well. I smoothed on more of my thick, unscented, lotion on my legs and arms. I’d moisturized after my shower, but I wanted to make sure that my lotion game was tight. Then it was back to my vanity to do my makeup. Though once again Bubbie slapped my hands away and did the work herself. She kept things light and natural with more shine than color on my eyes and just a bit more than hint of color on my lips. It looked great and was the complete opposite of what I’d have probably done.

Once Bubbie was done with my face, I spritzed some of my lucky perfume, the Hermes L'ambre Des Merveilles that Uncle Saulie made sure I never ran out of, into the air and walked through the small cloud to make sure that the scent wasn’t too strong or overwhelming. Then it was back into the bedroom to get into my dress. The knee length, Prada Tech knit dress was sleeveless and had a very high neckline. It made up for its demure design with a structure that followed my curves so closely that I was positive that I’d done the right thing by doubling up on my shapewear. Sam and Noah were both already dressed, of course. Even with doing Sam’s hair, it never took them even half the time to get ready that it took me. But they both looked hot like fire. In a navy blue suit, with a light blue traditional cotton dress shirt, Noah looked so mature and intelligent. His ‘black diamond’ gages gave him just enough edge to show his inner Puck. He was starting to talk about getting more piercings, but that was a thought for another time. I forced myself to focus on his apparel rather than naughty thoughts as to what he might to decide to put a barbell into. His belt was a very dark navy blue, but his shoes and watch band were both black. He was wearing his Graff watch that had been a gift from Lyor for our first major awards show win. His hair was still short enough to barely be there, but it had brushed so that it laid back. Fuck, my men were hot like fire.

Sam was every bit as fine as Noah. He too was wearing his Graff watch from Lyor, but his suit was black. While I was having trouble with the designer of Noah’s suit…looked Italian, but not Armani, I was positive that Sam was rocking an Armani suit. In fact, other than his shirt, shoes and belt, Sam was wearing all Armani, even his tie. If Noah was edgy, reformed bad boy hot, then Sam was totally neo-conventional, corporate hot. Like Puck, who was in almost all blue, Sam was in almost all black with pops of blue. So I wasn’t all that surprised when my accessories turned out to have pops of blue as well. My Louboutin heels were black, but my Prada purse was a gorgeous, bright blue. My shoes had crystal embellishments which tied them into the Graff chandelier collection earrings and matching collar necklace. The necklace and earrings had been rented for the evening and were escorted up by Woody, one of our two Rangeman guards for the night. I donned them and the beautiful, silver, Aurélie Bidermann vintage lace cuff bracelet, Meira T, diamond and fourteen carat, white gold Y shaped, ring-bracelet, Baume and Mercier, Petite Promesse, diamond and stainless steel wraparound bracelet watch and the John Hardy, classic chain, diamond, blue topaz & sterling silver ring…all of which were mine to wear whenever I wanted. Though I was pretty sure that I was going to slip Momma the watch before she left. It was more her style than mine.

Once all three of us were fully and completely dressed, our ‘style team’ gave us and Hudson a once over to make sure that we were putting our best selves forward. Hudson Friedman looked both adorable and efficient. She was wearing a navy, lace, fit and flare dress that showcased her gentle curves but allowed her to fade into the background as she preferred and her position demanded. Her long, thick curls had been tamed back into a neat wrap around braid style. Her only jewelry was the watch we’d given her for Christmas and a pair of simple one and a quarter inch long sodalite and gold earrings. Okay, so the watch didn’t necessarily match her navy and gold earrings or the matching largish clutch…Hudson was traveling pretty light that evening. But the simple truth was that Tiffany’s watches matched everything, whether they were or were not the same metal tone. She’d gone very traditional with nude colored sandals that had two simple bands and a slingback heel strap. Nikki grabbed my hand. “MeDe, doesn’t Hudson look pretty? I helped Bubbie pick out her dress.”

“You did a very good job. Not only is the dress really pretty, but it’s demure enough to make sure that Hudson’s comfortable in it. Are you going to grow up to give your Bubbie and Aunt Sarah some competition on the style pages?” I asked seriously, even though I knew the answer.

Just as I expected Nik-Nak shook her head. “Naw, I want to be like Neil Degrasse Tyson or Artie’s cousin Howard. He got to go to space and everything.”

“That’s awesome.” I knew that Howard Wolowitz was an astronaut. He’d told everyone at graduation about a billion times. He’d been as proud of that fact as he was of the fact that Artie was with not one, but two really hot cheerleaders. “I’m gonna be crazy worried but even more proud of you if you decide that you want to be an astronaut.” I said honestly.

I gathered my Saffiano leather min-tote, which a quick double check proved to contain all the essentials, touch up kit, gloss, phone, house keys, Altoids, needed cards, a money clip with some cash and my usual, and preferred, silver Mont Blanc pen. Nikki and Momma led the way down the stairs. I was almost positive that if school wasn’t an issue, my mother would have been plotting ways to smuggle Nikolette home with her. The moment we stepped off the last step into the living room, I was reminded that this was definitely more than just dinner out. It was an actual factual dinner meeting.

Signora Prada was an awesome woman when her PA, Aurora Romano, had called to set up the meeting, she’d made sure that Haja knew that all parties should bring their significant others with them. So, in the living room of our brownstone, waiting on us were Daniel and Riker. She was probably glad to have something to take her mind off the fact that she had to begin the first part of her FBI training in just a week from that night. Riker was so beautiful it almost wasn’t fair. She was tall and thin in a totally fit and healthy way. That evening she looked amazing in white, halter, cocktail dress with a flounce hem and an embellished waist. The silver of the ‘belt’ around her slender waist was mirrored in the Miu Miu silver heeled sandals she was rocking the hell out of. While her silver shoes were decorated with chunky crystals, the rest of her accessories were all really simple. A small Prada tote, shaped just like mine, just a bit bigger. I was almost positive it held her gun and shield…if she hadn’t had to turn them in yet. I was absolutely positive that the purse and shoes were brand new and purchased for her by Dom just for the meeting that evening. Her hair was short and curly with a deep side part that helped to highlight her front hoop earrings. Her makeup, what she wore of it, was as dark as her dress was light. Darkly lined eyes, deep oxblood red lips and that was all. She looked, in a word, amazing. Daniel didn’t look so bad himself in his charcoal Tom Ford three piece suit. He looked very classic with a white shirt and dark gray based tie. I smiled when I noticed that his shoes and belt were both Prada. Looking around I noticed that that seemed to be the trend, everyone was wearing some bit of Prada even if it was just a shoe or handbag.

There was no confusing the fact that Ethan and Daniel were related. Their skin tones were almost the exact same color, and there was something that was so very similar about their very auras. It didn’t help that they were both in suits of the same dark gray color. Ethan’s suit was cut in more of an Italian line than Daniel’s. His shirt was a shade of gray just a hairsbreadth away from white and his tie was a midnight blue silk with a printed paisley pattern making it way more interesting than his nephew’s. But like my elder cousin, his shoes and belt were both made by the company who’s CEOs and team we were dining with. He looked very handsome. But like Daniel, he couldn’t hold a candle to the woman who held his heart. It wasn’t his fault, men’s fashion was just kind of boring.

Amanda Walters-Harris was wearing a beautiful blush colored jumpsuit that was completely cut out in the back and a long vent in the front. She paired it with nude satin, jeweled sandals and highlighted it with a skinny, pink, patent leather belt. She carried the smallest purse of all of us, a large Prada wallet. But then again, Amanda probably hadn’t really wanted to spend much on something pink. She had straightened her long wealth of hair and it was clubbed back into a really thick ponytail that flowed down to her waist. She was wearing a really cute pair of simple topaz, drop earrings. I noticed that she had gotten a new diamond tennis bracelet. She loved the things, but I was almost positive that that one was new because it was gold rather than platinum like the ones I was used to seeing her wear. Her other slender wrist was ornamented with just a slim, bar and link gold bracelet. Her non-marital right ring finger was rocking an abstract shaped gold ring. I was loving her makeup too. My aunt was a fierce Delta, so it wasn’t surprising that she’d managed to work red, a bold, Delta red lipstain, into her outfit.

Our party had two more members, but Haja and his date Calvin Kowalsky, the sexy Rangeman with the flaming skull tattoo in his head, according to the grapevine, were meeting us at Le Cirque. Woody and Junior were our Rangeman escort for the evening and they led us all out to two limos. The three of us and Hudson were shown into the one driven by Hitta, while the rest of our party was ushered into on driven by a dude who looked like Jason Statham’s swole American cousin. The drive from Harlem to Midtown was well, it was what one expected of Manhattan traffic on a holiday evening. We did arrive early, only by a few minutes, but we made it.

It was our very first visit to the iconic New York restaurant. So, I was, of course, looking around nosily while trying to look unaffected. The place was, it was huge. There was none of the intimacy I’d envisioned. We were shown into a large, kind of awkward lounge that was set up with an interesting arrangement. There was a somewhat smaller table set for the four guards nearer the entrance from the main part of the restaurant. Other than that, we were shown to a table that was gorgeously set for the eighteen members of our party. Miucci Prada was a beautiful older woman…perhaps not in a traditional sense, but her smile made her so. She was wearing a simple black, silver and yellow printed cocktail dress with a silk black dress tee under the halter dress to give her more coverage. In deference to the evening’s venue, she was rocking enough diamonds to make my rented Graff jewels look immature and paltry. Her husband, and joint CEO, Patrizio Bertelli stood at her right. He wore a super traditional, black, tailored suit with a white dress shirt and plain black tie. All of it looked completely custom, like there were makers’ marks rather than actual tags. There were twinkles at both of his wrists, signifying the presence of very high quality, but very classy cufflinks. The couple may well have been older, but they’d been fashion icons for the better part of my mother’s life time. They were an entire different echelon than anyone I’d yet met. I smiled warmly as they greeted us in a very European fashion, “Ciao Bellisima, it is so nice to meet the three of you.” Signor Bertelli was warm and just a little gregarious.

“Misericordia, Mercedes, your voice…ci bella. It is beautiful.” Signora Prada said, surprisingly shyly.

“Grazie.” I returned. “It’s amazing to meet you as well. I’ve envied Prada purses since I was twelve years old.”

Sam and Noah greeted the older couple with politeness, though neither of them even tried for even the most basic of Italian. There were a lot of introductions made around. Of course, we allowed our elders the center of attention first. Signor Bertelli handled the introductions for their side of the meeting. “Please allow me to make known to you Signor Stefano Cantino, the Strategic Marketing director for Prada Group.”

Signor Cantino was a tall, thin gentleman who looked both very cosmopolitan and yet so real at the same time. His suit and tie were Isaia and his shirt Armani. His shoes belonged to the company for which he worked. He gave us a small smile and introduced us to his guest, Verde Visconti. She was quite an interesting woman, tall and slender with an aura of gentility that was quite persuasive. She wore a knee length navy blue dress with a red panel across her abdomen. She looked quite lovely.

Signor Bertelli then introduced us to Maritza Coyne the Senior VP and General Counsel of Prada America. A thin, white woman with dark hair, slicked back into a knot. A black off the shoulder, knee length, Prada cocktail dress covered her very slight curves. At first, I thought her to be pretty but kind of unremarkable…then I met her eyes. They were startlingly blue-gray, and they were shining and brimming with intelligence. I was a little surprised by her companion. Letitia Vincent was introduced as Ms. Coyne’s girlfriend. The British soap-opera actress had acknowledged her fluid sexuality before people really started using the term. Though she was most famous as the Brits answer to Marlena Evans, she’d also managed to have number one songs throughout Europe at least every other year. While she was about a decade older than Ms. Coyne, that wasn’t the reason I was a little surprised that she was introduced as Ms. Coyne’s girlfriend. The last thing I’d paid attention to about her had her involved with a guy and preggers. But then again, that was a long time back, so I guess I’d missed something. Not that I paid that much attention to British tabloids, just in a peripheral kind of way. She looked nice that evening in a pink and silver, strapless floral-jacquard cropped top with bow and black satin cigarette pants. “It’s wonderful to meet you.” Ms. Coyne said calmly after having made us known to her guest. “Letitia and I had a wonderful time at your Lucky ‘n Love Concert in February. It was quite a stellar evening.”

“I’m glad that you had a good time.” Noah said charmingly. “We had a very good time making that evening happen. Are you registered through our website? If so, you’ll get advanced notice of our next intimate event.” Darcy had drilled that response into all of our heads for anyone who like the Valentine’s Day concert or asked if we were going to do it or something similar again.

Letitia smirked. “We’ll certainly do that. We’ve been arguing for months trying to figure out which was better that night, the food or the singing.” Her laugh was musical…but slightly shallow or fake.

Thankfully, we didn’t have to try and figure out how to deal with what seemed to be an insincere cosigning of a really sincere sentiment. Instead, Signor Bertelli introduced us to his and Signora Prada’s personal assistants. Giovanni Bianchi was an interesting looking man. He looked to be in his mid to later thirties. He was short and stocky with seriously thick, jet black hair shot through with enough silver to already be very noticeable. I noticed that every bit of apparel visual was Prada. Though he paid us homage with a KAMA purple tie and pocket square. His counterpart, Aurora Romano, looked more like a model than a PA. While she seemed to be about the same age as Giovanni, she was both significantly taller, and rail thin. Her natural blonde hair showed that she probably had Aostan or Bolzanoan origins. Though she did have the more traditional brown eyes one tends to expect from someone of Italian descent. I noticed that her pink, spaghetti strapped, mini dress was from Prada’s fall runway line. She did wear it well, even if I tended to find the fashion house’s runway stuff too avant garde even for me. I was very happy to note that Signor Bertelli then introduced us to both of their escorting guards. One of whom was Haja’s older brother.

Like his brother, Barnaby Johnston had an interesting face and an awesome British accent. If anything, Barnaby’s was stronger. He was also taller and built to kill. I quickly noticed that he and Cal knew each other and treated each other with definite respect. Michael Bryce was their other guard and he was not at all what I expected. He was tall, but his body looked more like a runner or swimmer than what I’d come to expect of bodyguards. That wasn’t to say he wasn’t built, but he was leaner than even Woody who was one of the more wiry of the Rangemen. There was something about him that just about screamed OCD though. I mean, there wasn’t a thing out of place…not even a bit of lint on his charcoal suit. He did have a nice smile, but he seemed rather boyscoutish to me.

In my inattention, Sam and Noah had done a masterful job introducing our team, and their partners, to the Prada contingent. They’d done so starting with Haja and his date Cal and worked their way through Ethan, Amanda, Daniel, Riker and Hudson. Soon we were all seated and exchanging small talk around the table. It was hilarious, there were conversations in at least four languages, English, French, Spanish and Italian, amongst the twenty or so people at the expanded square table where we’d been seated. The Signora and Signor both spoke English very well, but they slipped into Italian when they simply didn’t know the verbiage for what they wanted to convey. The Le Cirque staff gave us a few minutes to get settled then Mr. Maccioni came in and greeted all of us and explained that our party would choose from an abbreviated menu so that there would be less interruptions from the wait staff. He was a very nice gentleman, but the older couple commented that he just didn’t have to same panache of his father.

The abbreviated menu gave us four options for the appetizer, six for the main course and sides then finished with a choice between four desserts. Following the examples of our hosts, we each gave our waiter all our choices there at the beginning. I went with the Le Cirque lobster salad, the Dover sole meunière, with spinach and haricot vert, and the strawberry pavlova with Earl Grey ice cream. Sam’s choices were also pretty healthy. He picked the Le Cirque salad, the Steak Grillé, a dry aged prime strip with green peppercorn sauce, and he substituted the haricot vert for the potato gratin. Then, he finished it off with stone fruit cobbler that came with toasted almond ice cream. I almost laughed when Noah seemed to choose exactly the opposite route, going with the tomato & basil tarte Tatin which was basically slices of tomato and a leaf of basil on slices of mozzarella wrapped in puff pastry, baked and drizzled with a balsamic reduction. Puck had gone with roasted rack of lamb and braised lamb stuffed zucchini, eggplant puree, tomato provencal and the S'mores Candy Bar served with graham cracker ice cream.

Once all the orders had been placed, it was time to get down to business. While Signor Bertelli had handled most of the initial conversations, he actually allowed Signora Prada to take the lead on the business discussion. “Thank you very much for agreeing to meet with us. As you have probably guessed, we wanted this meeting to discuss a business proposition.”

I guess Sam and Noah decided that they wanted to step back as well, because I found myself the one called upon to respond. “We did make that assumption, though it has been so nice meeting and speaking with you that we’d have been just as happy had this just been a social invitation.”

There were some smiles exchanged, and then the focus was back on the important issues. “Quite simply, as Chanel was the company to create the last several decades of unattainable beauty standards that have harmed the health of so many, I would like Prada to be the fashion house to bring about a more realistic and healthy ideal…bring health and wellness to the forefront of the industry."

“That is a very noble ideal.” Noah said calmly. “How can we help?”

Signora Prada gestured to Signor Cantino who laid out the prospective plan. “We would like to create a digital and print ad campaign showing three very different, but very famous women in Prada clothing and accessories. One of those women we hope to showcase, is you Ms. Jones. The commitment would be a bit more than that of our regular models, but it shouldn’t negatively impact your already full schedule too much. We put out two lines per year, before each of those lines we’d need to do a photo shoot and prep a digital commercial. There is also the hope that you could work with our profumiere and create a fragrance for our perfume line, you will of course have final choice of the name of the perfume. Additionally, we’d ask that you wear Prada to at least one of the big four award shows as well as two of the lesser shows during the term of the contract. Of course, we would work with your stylists to create something completely custom for you to wear to each of those events.”

“That would need to be stipulated in the contract. We’ve worked very hard to begin to establish me as a force to be reckoned with when it comes to fashion. I’d hate to end up on a worst dress list because I was wearing something not designed with my specific body type in mind. May I ask who the other women are?”

“We’ve already approached Mindy Kaling and are meeting with Milla Jovovich later this month.” Signor Cantino said rather proudly.

I was thoughtful for a moment. “That would give you a very diverse group of ladies, both ethnically and in relation to our relative sizes.”

“Exactly, we would like to start the campaign with the three of you. You encompass different age demographics as well as being at different career stages. We would like to sign you to a two-year contract with the option to expand it to five years in total. In the option years, we’d hope to add Ruby Rose, or another celebrity with ties to the LGBTQ community and Philomena Kwao or Victoria Lee as well. That would help to show across the board diversity. However, we would need to stipulate in the contract that you not make any drastic changes in your size until after the terms of the contract.”

Sam and Noah looked like they were a little upset by that stipulation, but I’d expected it. “That is a reasonable proviso in a contract such as this.”

After making a quick gesture that I was certainly interested in taking the contract, Uncle Ethan and Haja took over from there. The discussion of terms and consideration for the contract began quickly. The two of them and Daniel made their negotiations with Signors Bertelli and Cantino, and Ms. Coyne seem almost conversational. So much so that the Prada people didn’t even seem to notice when Amanda piped in with a point of knowledge or two as well. The waiters were unobtrusive as the brought and removed our courses. While we allowed the more business-minded of our party to hammer out the details, Sam, Noah and I had a nice talk with Signoras Prada and Visconti as well as Ms. Vincent. It was during that conversation that we realized that when she wasn’t paying attention Letitia snorted when she laughed hard. It was pretty awesome and explained why her laughter earlier had sounded sort of fake. It turned out that she was an incredible woman with a wealth of experience that she didn’t mind sharing. I almost spewed the delicious Garganega that I was enjoying with the Le Cirque classic when she was telling a great story about touring Europe with David Hasslehoff. It was a seriously funny story about him getting drunk and waking up in an alley long after the tour had moved on to the next stop in Germany. He’d managed to get an old man to give him a ride to the next city. “So, the Hoff can be a bit of a wanker, but he was as kind as a kitten to that old man. Gave him tickets for the show and everything. I was back in that city a few years later and that old man saw me in a bäckerei. He recognized me from the concert and came up to me to tell me all about how kind Hasselhoff had been. It was hilarious consider that the Hoff had stuck me with his bar tab that night we’d left him.”

By the time dinner was done, Haja, Uncle Ethan and Daniel were all very happy with the terms of the agreement and the Prada team were more than satisfied with their bargain. Their side of the table talked things through and Signora Prada and Signor Bertelli signed off on the agreement. Uncle Ethan texted the three of us a picture of the sheet that stated all the things the contract would contain. We’d given them one additional lesser award show outfit in exchange for preliminary approval for all print ad photos as well as secondary edit approval for the digital ads. I wouldn’t be doing any swimwear work and there was a no nudity clause. A pregnancy clause was included as well. The photo and digital work would pause for up to twelve months. The catch there was that the pause would extend the overall length of the contract. Of course, that would only come into play if I were to become pregnant before the end of the contract term. There was an exclusivity clause that gave me a bit of pause. I pointed out that I was under contract with Lane Bryant to do some print ads for a year. Signor Bertelli shook his head, “oh no, if you notice the exclusive nature of the contract says only that you may not act as a spokesperson for another major fashion house. Lane Bryant is not of that importanza. As you will not be doing any campaigns for the Miu Miu line, the two contracts will not conflict.”

With that concern taken care of, I finally allowed myself to check out the renumeration section of the preliminary contract. I had to make sure that I held my face steady as I read the numbers both parties had agreed upon. Over the course of the five years of the contract, if the option was exercised, I would make two hundred million dollars. I started to get a little cocky, thinking for a moment that I would love to tell Rachel Berry how much an international, iconic fashion brand considered me worth, but I stamped that thought ruthlessly down. Instead, I forced myself to focus on how the ad campaign could help many young women throughout America and around the world to see themselves in me and the other ladies. Hopefully, those young women seeing us in magazines and on the digital ads, would find strength and encouragement in seeing the reflections of themselves. I said as much to Signora Prada and she gave me a beautiful smile. “Esattamente, I hope to stop the next young Miu Miu who feels that her nose is too big, and she isn’t pretty from setting aside her dreams as impossible. I was able to make my dreams come true. You have been able to make your dreams come true…so many young girls can take inspiration from you, from Mindy, even from Milla.”

Puck seemed to take that one as a permission to ask something that had been bothering him for the better part of the evening. “Why Milla Jovovich? I mean, I love me some Fifth Element and have seen all the Resident Evil movies, but she’s so thin, isn’t that the opposite of your stated goal?”

Signora Prada laughed. “You’ve definitely never eaten a meal with Milla. She may be skinny, but I have never seen any other person, male or female, eat so very much at one meal. She is literally the epitome of a naturally thin person. Those girls need a spokesperson too. Sometime in the effort to see to the emotional needs of more curvy girls, those like Milla who will always be rail thin are shunted to the side and they too need to see that they are acceptable just as they are.”

I thought about that for a moment. Brittany was like that. I was still fairly certain that Santana had some issues with bulimia, but Brittany honestly just danced her ass off all the time and that showed up in how much she consumed. I raised that point. Then added, “As much as I love my curves, I do envy people who have metabolisms like that.”

“Don’t we all.” Signora Prada chuckled.

There was some more conversation, yet there was an underlying tension growing. I finally realized that I had never actually accepted the offer on the table. I looked over at Sam and he nodded. Noah leaned in and kissed my ear while murmuring, “if you want to say yes, you have my vote.”

I knew that I wanted to do so. My team certainly seemed to want me to do so. With both Sam and Puck on board, there was only one thing to say. “I really look forward to this campaign. Thank you very much for this opportunity to put forth a new ideal of health and beauty on your platform.”

The growing tension dissipated and both Signor Bertelli and Signora Prada seemed ridiculously happy. That emotion was mirrored in myself, and in both my men. We all had an exceedingly nice conversation over dessert. Riker was offered the chance to model herself if she chose to accept it. I was pretty sure that Signor Cantino wanted to woo Daniel away from us. I couldn’t blame him, Daniel was pretty epic at his job. By the same turn, Amanda was the darling of Signor Bertelli’s businessman’s eye. He told her that if she ever chose to leave academia she would find a job at Prada. I noticed that Haja, Barnaby and Cal had managed to have a discussion as well. Haja had told us that the three of them were scheduled to go and visit the Johnston matriarch later that month so I knew I needed to make time to get the true story on how Haja and Cal had fallen in love. The last info I had on that relationship had them as more than friends with benefits but not quite boyfriends. I wanted to know when things had changed and what changed them so quickly.

Once the final dishes were removed, I realized that we’d never even been offered a check. Apparently, the dinner was fully on the Prada contingent. We were assured that the finalized contracts would be ready for signing within the month. I wasn’t surprised to notice that while Giovanni handled the bill, almost completely without notice, Hudson quietly slipped the wait staff twice our usual tip. It was a huge group and there were two tables that needed service. Besides we still came out well below whatever the amount Signor Bertelli had had to pay. There were good byes said and we finally headed home a little after midnight. It showed exactly how long the day had been that, even as dressed up as we were, not even Puck suggested that we find something fun to do for the rest of the night.

Of course, on the ride home, we talked things through with Hudson and asked that she work with Giovanni and Aurora to make sure that we have as much advance warning as to the timing of any of the photo shoots as possible. We were also texting back and forth with Ethan, Daniel and Haja running through the different aspects of the conversations that we had missed. In those texts, we learned that the negotiations had started at a much different point than where they’d ended. The original Prada offer had been about half of what the final product. However, Riker had learned through a conversation with Signora Visconti that Signor Cantino had been authorized to go as high as thirty million for the first two years and fifty for the remaining three. That meant that we’d left a total of ten million dollars on the table, but we were actually very much satisfied by the agreement that had been reached. Daniel would be in contact with Signor Cantino to work through the press release and then they would bring in Darcy and Prada’s US social media manager to proliferate the knowledge around the net.

By the time Hitta and Woody let us back out at home, I was so low on energy, I thought that Sam or Noah might well have to carry me up to our room. but then a funny thing happened as we tiptoed out of Nikki’s room after kissing her good night, as we climbed the last set of stairs, watching Sam and Puck’s asses moving under their slacks, it gave me a second wind. In fact, once I’d locked the rented jewels back in the boxes and put them safely into the hidden compartment in my closet to be returned the next morning on our way to our next meeting, I shimmied out of my dress and shaper slip, and wrapped my hair in a scarf before ambling back into the bedroom on the stilts Louboutin called high heels. I was glad that, despite the lateness of the hour, I’d still made sure to repair my makeup before leaving the restaurant, just in case of paparazzi. “Oh boys,” I called out seductively.

Pausing in the action of getting undressed, two heads turned to look at me. Two very different sets of eyes widened in appreciation and darkened in want, in need of me. “Damn, Cede.” Noah groaned licking and then biting his lip in a way that never failed to make my nipples harden and my body thrum with desire. Those feelings of want were augmented by the fact that both Noah and Sam had stripped down to just the point where they were only wearing just the slacks of their suits. My mouth went dry at the sight before me and I was completely confident that the sight of me in black lace had rendered both of my lovers just as enamored.

“I know we told you how beautiful you looked today, but did we tell you how just fucking sexy you are Mercedes Jones?” Sam breathed.

“I’m always glad to hear those words from either of you.” I replied honestly stalking forward. “I want you each to know that you’re sexier than I have words to describe.”

Puck’s smile turned filthy. “So, what do you plan to do with all this sexy, Hot Mama?”

My smile matched his as all the thoughts of what I wanted to do to both him and Sam floated through my mind. “First, a kiss.” I whispered as I crossed to him. Even with six-inch heels, I had to come up onto my toes and wrap my hand around the back of his neck and pull his lips down to meet mine. I loved kissing both of my men, but it was the one area where Sam kind of edged Puck out just a little bit. But Puck’s kisses were so very delicious because even after three years together, he still somehow added an air of illicitness to each and every one. It spoke to my inner asshole. Our kiss broke, and Sam took over kissing our husband before he kissed me breathless.

Noah moved behind me and soon I felt the tension of my bra released and his hands slither around me to support my breasts. “Do we get to play with your big, beautiful titties after the kisses?” he whispered against my ear. If the dirty question wasn’t enough to make my knees go weak, the fact that Noah let his fingers tease my harden nipples with relentless gentleness definitely did the trick.

I lost all control of the situation in that moment. As my knees went out, Puck scooped me up and carried me to our bed. Sam joined us just seconds later, then clad only in his boxers. Noah’s lips covered mine, his fingers returning to my breasts to massage and torment by turn. Sam carefully, but quickly, removed my shaper panties, which were most definitely soaked. I’d hoped that the panty removal would be followed by Sammy Kisses on my pussy, but instead, he moved back up to take another turn kissing my primary lips, his fingers joining Noah’s on my nipples and breasts. My back arched in pleasure. I was a very lucky girl. Both of my men loved playing with my body, there was never a lack of foreplay and that night was no different. That night they were working in concert to drive me out of my fucking mind. Sam led the way as they kissed their way from my face to my breasts. They nibbled, licked and sucked, not only my nipples, but my areolas and all around the mounds of my tits. I couldn’t help but squirm, my back arched into their sucking mouths. When their fingers danced down my belly and slipped between my legs, I flew into an orgasm that shocked me with both its onset and intensity.

“Oh fuck.” I moaned.

“That’s it, Baby. Cum for us. You’re so beautiful when you cum.” Sam murmured, his fingers strumming over my clit keeping me locked in the heights of pleasure.

“Fuck yeah, Sammy. Keep our beautiful girl fucking cumming.” Noah agreed. Before I could form a thought, I felt my legs being spread wider and the distinct feeling of Puck’s head between my thighs. From the moment his tongue touched me, I lost track of anything but how good it felt and how amazing the orgasms they gave me together were. By the time Noah tired of feasting on my pussy, I’d lost count of how many orgasms had crashed over me. My return to my senses was slow and languid. However, my loves hadn’t been idle while I was out of it. I rolled to my side and found Sam’s mouth busy sucking Noah’s dick with obvious joy and abandon. “Shit, Sam, fuck I love your fucking mouth. Fuck!” Puck hissed in obvious passion. “Take me deep. Aw damn, yeah. Fuck, you look as good as Cede with my dick in your mouth.” As much as I loved listening to Puck’s dirty words of enjoyment and encouragement, I was never one to remain sidelined in our lovemaking. I leaned over and licked gently at Noah’s ravaged nipple. The unfortunate and violent removal of his piercing in juvie had left a rather severe scar, but amazingly enough, the scarification had only increased the sensitivity of the nerves there. “Fuck!” he growled as his body convulsed in release. Sam must have been working him over for longer than I thought. Noah had some serious stamina and lasting power. Then again, it wasn’t the first time that Puck had eaten me into an orgasm coma.

As soon as Noah’s body calmed a bit, I attacked Sam. First with kisses, chasing down the ever delicious cocktail that is the mixture of Puck’s cum on Sam’s tongue. I happily pushed him onto his back. I wanted what’s he’d just enjoyed and so much more, but even at twenty-two, Noah needed a few minutes to bounce back. Still, I did know all the best ways to decrease his time out of play. Rather than rest on my side or lay flat between Sammy Boy’s spread legs, I knelt there with my ass high in the air. I licked him from base to tip then circled the head with my tongue. It was Sam’s favorite way for me to begin. Puck preferred a more straight forward, straight down the hatch approach. With Sammy I was able to torment and tease and draw the blow job out for several minutes before I needed to really get to work. “Baby, oh God, Mercy. You’re perfect. Your mouth is, God. So fucking perfect.” Sam babbled as I drew him deeper into my mouth. With several days before our next tour date, I was able to keep sucking him deeper and deeper until my nose was being tickled by his dark blond pubes.

Pulling back up, I smiled when I felt Noah’s large hands gripping my hips and ass. “She’s wet as hell too. Ready for us, BabyGirl?” I didn’t take my mouth off Sam to answer. I just wiggled my ass and went back down on Sam’s cock. Puck knew just want I meant, and what I wanted. “Good Girl, you’re always so ready for us.” he hissed as the flared head of his cock pressed gently into the hot, wet entrance of my pussy. The first few moments were a dance of advance and retreat on both our parts, as Noah thrust deeper into me, I’d sink lower on Sam. When Puck pulled back, so did I. Sam was not idle as he enjoyed my mouth either. His strong fingers pinched and teased my nipples and sooner than I’d like to admit, I was moaning and groaning and orgasming yet again. My pleasure drew Sammy with me. Though, in his defense, it was his first orgasm that night. It certainly wasn’t his last. We made love for hours, reveling in the security of home, the privacy of our mostly soundproof bedroom, and our love for each other. When we finally did sleep, it was wrapped around each other, sweaty and panting as sleep claimed us.

It would have been wonderful to have a full day off from work before our classes started back. But that just was not meant to be. At least our Tuesday was a little bit better in that it didn’t begin as early or last a long as our Labor Day had. That was especially appreciated since our love making had lasted until the wee hours. We were back up at eleven. Sam and Noah, somehow, managed to convince me to get in a quick half hour of actual cardio…despite my assertions that I’d done a couple of hours of cardio before we’d gone to sleep. One of the best things we had done for our health and well-being was to include a gym space in our brownstone. It, more than anything else, had saved us all time and money and it was used by every one of us and the tenants. Well, most of the tenants. Ben did not exercise, and I was doubtful that Seth would ever do more than sit on a machine and run his mouth. Having the gym in the house made it easier for me to force myself to workout, which was something that had really helped our career. Stamina was a serious necessity when performing.

After our half hour of hell-which was actually an entire hour because Sam had me warm up and cool down. I had to race through showering and moisturizing my skin. I looked over the outfit Bubbie and Kurt had laid out for me to wear that day. I was feeling the jumpsuit, sort of. A jumpsuit was definitely the right choice, but I just wasn’t feeling that particular, black and white, ruffled, cold-shoulder jumpsuit they had picked. I headed back towards my ‘personal’ clothes and found a Diane Von Furstenberg black jumpsuit with pops of red and gold, and just color, to pair with the Badgley Mischka Gale block heeled sandals that our style team had left for me. Despite my feelings on yellow gold, I did like the understated Michael Kors slim, three hand watch and the wide, ‘delicate’, multi-wire hoop earrings that went with the look. The red on my jumpsuit I’d picked allowed me to get playful with my lingerie. So, I went with a pretty black silk and watermelon lace bra and panty set. I took my hair down from the careful coif Momma had created for me the night before and brushed, gelled, combed and cursed until my hair was pulled into two French braids that met and became one at the nape of my neck. When I first started to do my hair that morning, I considered paying homage to the Lady of Rage, but ultimately, I decided that the afro puffs wouldn’t really go with the jumpsuit.

I was in a mood that morning. Just like I hadn’t felt that other jumpsuit, I wasn’t feeling a face full of makeup either. And since it was a day time meeting, I could get away with the less is more approach. I thinned my usual matte foundation out with some primer and a drop or two of rosewater. That gave me just enough coverage to even out my skin tone without giving me the usual ‘made-up’ feeling. A quick, light, dusting of finishing powder and I could move on. I did go a little bolder with the eyeliner than usual, but the sharp, clear, black wing allowed me to just draw in a slim gold line directly above the kohl and that was my ‘eyeshadow’ for the day. A little mascara and a golden, shimmery berry gloss and I was finished.

When I headed back into the bedroom, finally ready to throw on my actual clothes, I wasn’t surprised to find that Puck and Sam were both dressed and waiting on me. Puck looked so intrinsically him. If I didn’t know that his black Henley was True Religion, his navy, heathered wool and silk blend flat front slacks were Brioni and his steel toe boots, Alexander McQueen; I’d have thought we were back in high school and he was just getting ready to go to Temple. I smiled at his gauges. He really did love them and hoped to go bigger. I was happy that he was happy…but I also knew that when he got to his desired size, we were going to have to get some custom made for him with real diamonds or out of platinum or something. No way were Daniel and Bubbie going to let him go around in twelve or fifteen dollar gauges all the time. It would definitely bring down his individual brand and the KAMA brand as a whole. Puck saw that I was almost ready, and he grabbed the sport coat that matched his slacks and passed Sammy the brown sport coat that coordinated with the brown pants our husband was wearing. 

Sam’s outfit was pretty Sammy…but not as much him as Puck’s was. It was closer to ‘normal’ Sam than ‘rockstar’ Sam, but not quite close enough. I was pretty sure that either Sam would have freaked all the way out if he knew that his pretty blue, long-sleeved, tee shirt cost around two hundred bucks. He’d have been fine with the fact that his boots cost almost that much. The square toed, western boots were actually the least expensive thing he was wearing. They grabbed the same portfolios they’d carried with them to the morning and afternoon meetings at Rangeman, while I emptied the Ferragamo I’d carried to those and moved the necessities to a black Gucci, GG Marmont Matelassé top handle shoulder bag that Bubbie and Kurt had set out the night before with my accessories for the Warner meeting. We double checked that we had everything. And with a promise to clean up after ourselves when we got back, we were ready to go.

Breakfast was an even bigger group than the day before. Momma, George and Sandman weren’t leaving until pretty much immediately after the Warner meeting. In addition to their presence, Mrs. Gwen and Mr. Zizes had arrived for our other meetings and some Amor Verissima business that had to get handled that week. Though Mr. Ben wasn’t up that early. He didn’t have to go with us to the Warner offices so he didn’t have to get up that early, Mrs. Gwen was attending the Warner meeting with us so she was there. She’d brought Mr. Roger with her to Manhattan and he was going to spend the day with Artie so both the Abrams men were sitting with us as were Tana and Brittany. It was probably pretty mean to even think, but Mrs. Gwen had come so far when it came to fashion. Her friendship with Mrs. Lopez had done her a world of good. For our meeting that day, she looked both lovely and professional in a pair of high-rise, wide legged, black slacks. Her top was a satin, verdant green, key hole, sleeveless blouse and there was a black linen blazer on the back of her chair. Her jewelry was totally understated, just a nice watch and a small pair of earrings. Her simple black slingbacks were still basically kitten heels, but they were Blahniks though which, again, showed Mrs. Lopez influence on her.

Momma was sitting next to her as they were talking about something amusing. My mother had always been a fashionista…since long before the term got major. She looked like a feminine BOSS in a gorgeous, knee length, faux wrap dress with three quarter length sleeves and a tie belt. The black dress had a floral terrarium print from the hem up to her hips. I loved her shoes, they were ‘nude’ beige pumps with a wide ankle strap and great four inch heel. I recognized her necklace as a recent purchase that had all her born babies’ initials along the white gold chain. Across from her George was, as expected rocking an open collar, though I was kind of surprised that his shirt wasn’t plaid. It was a gorgeous shade of blue that went very well with his black slacks and gray sport coat. I had a theory that part of the reason George had jumped all over the idea of moving out of Manhattan and leaving his very profitable job at Kohn Pedersen Fox Associates PC, one of the biggest architecture firms in the country, was to create for himself a job where he never had to wear a neck tie ever again. Sander, however, didn’t seem to mind wearing ties very much at all. Though, he wasn’t wearing one that day. Instead he was in a navy-blue suit with a sand colored polo, which I really hoped was a long sleeved one. Short sleeved polos should never be worn under a suit. It was creepy. He’d donned the same brown shoes and belt that he’d worn the day before. That was pretty smart from a packing standpoint.

Darcy had spent the weekend with Lester, which was why she had met us at Rangeman the previous morning. Since she was home the night before, she had come over with Hudson to ride with us to the Warner offices. I really loved her look. She was wearing a great navy and dark blue, almost tonal, plaid maxi dress with an asymmetrical ruffle hem and a thin bow belt detail at the waist. It was covered with a solid navy, two-button blazer. Her jewelry was pretty simple, a pair of curvy silver ‘floral’ earrings and a pretty silver necklace with seven charms around the front of the chain’s length. She was talking with Hudson and Sander. Hudson had gone full on PA. I couldn’t help but smile at how similarly dressed the two very different young women were. Hudson’s dress was pure navy and its ruffles traveled down the front of the more structured dress to a ruffle hem that stopped precisely at her knees. I was sure that their blazers were identical, but given Darcy’s curves, they looked very different. Darcy had gone with pumps, as had Hudson, but where Darcy had stuck with navy shoes and added interest with the tie detail at the ankle, Huds’ shoes were traditional, classic nude leather pumps. Then again, there were a lot of things like that between our PA and our social media manager…similar but just different enough to be both complementary and interesting. Hudson, as always, wore her treasured Christmas gift Tiffany’s analogue watch. Darcy, as always, wore the latest piece of technology that masqueraded as a time piece. I was pretty sure that personally their personality differences were overcome by their similarities in intelligence, constancy and the reticence to give trust easily due to their childhoods. They were staunch friends though and I was so happy that they had found that friendship in each other.

My assessments and thoughts were interrupted by Bautista’s determination that we have at least a small snack before we headed to the meeting, even though Warner was providing lunch as a matter of course. She was a great cook and a forward thinker so she had created us mobile snackage that we were easily able to carry on the go. The almond butter, banana and honey roll-ups tasted awesome and she was right we should be prepared just in case lunch didn’t take place until after the meeting or something. As we all took our roll-ups and made our way to the fleet of Rangeman limos that awaited us, I couldn’t help but remember a Shakespearean quote PopPop had always loved to use when it was time to start a something that had a high likely hood of being tedious or annoying. ‘Once more into the breach, dear friends, once more.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to hear from you.   
> Tell me what you hope to see in this story.   
>  Shall I keep smacking Rachet, I mean Rachel, around?   
>  Do you still want the usual Christmas pull out story?  
>  Shall I continue to build the Commune universe through the trio's graduation or   
>  commitment ceremony?  
>  Or just leave me a simple comment. I like Comments they make me very happy.   
> TTFN,   
> Anni


	3. Right Now (Van Halen)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ****THANKS to everyone who has taken the time to review! Your encouragement helps more than you know!****  
> Thank all of you for being avid readers & reviewers of my stories:  
> I appreciate all of you.
> 
> Boredom Busting Fic Reread Rec  
> The Many Meetings of Sam Evans and Mercedes Jones by TheLookingGlass_7
> 
>  
> 
> DaughterofDarkness87 Thank you for always being such a big help. You have become a fundamental part of this world.

Chapter 3

Right Now (Van Halen)  
Puck PoV 

One thing nobody ever told you about being a Rockstar was that there was a hell of a lot more to the biz than being hot, talented and popular. There was a lot of fucking serious business to it. Our meetings with our label personified that unassailable truth. We had a team at Warner. That team had been hand picked by our ultimate boss-slash-mentor Lyor Cohen. Deborah Jergens was our Artist Development Rep. She headed up the Warner side of our planning and promotion…for the most part, everything KAMA flowed through Deborah. She was the person we had the most contact with at our label. The next two people down that list were Anika Rawlins and Christophe Hamilton. Those two, and their PAs, were our marketing team, at least on the label’s end. Anika was technically our image consultant and Christophe our marketing consultant…but they tended to work together most of the time. Not only for us, but for a few other artists as well. They worked with Bubbie, Darcy and Daniel and had meetings with just the five of them, at least twice a month to make sure that we remained as relevant and therefore as profitable as possible. The people we didn’t see every time we had a Warner meeting, but saw them often enough, were Denise Lee and Valerie Wilthorne. The were both members of the label Art department and they made sure that our videos were more watchable than any other artists putting shit out for the fans. While the directors of our videos changed, Ms. Lee and Valerie always had their fingers in each of our releases and Valerie had put in some serious work with Bubbie Ruth and Kurt to arrange all our costuming for the tour.

On the way to meeting, we were all fairly quiet. Partially because we were still getting our minds right after all the things we’d learned the day before. Not just the bad shit either. The deal that had been organized the night before was going to make Cede a hell of a lot of money. Which was perfect, because the deal Haja had gotten us with Calvin Klein was gonna pay me and Sam ridic loot. We had talked about it while we were getting dressed; both me and Sam were much happier now that Cede had an equitable contract of her own. Another reason we were kind of quiet was just because we were tired as hell. To most of our entourage, it had looked like we’d slept late. But the truth was that we had spent most of the time that we were supposed to be sleeping getting our fuck on. Sleepy as we were, none of us regretted that choice at all. In fact, looking at how sexy Hot Mama was looking in her jumpsuit, well, I had to force my thoughts away from thoughts of the dirty shit we’d gotten up to, my dick was getting hard and it was going to be a long afternoon.

The traffic wasn’t too fucked up and before too long, we had arrived at the ‘quiet’ entrance for the Warner offices. The quiet entrance was located on the first level of the garage and it was used to allow the more popular artists to get inside the label offices without having to deal with papz or fans. None of us were surprised that Gina was the one waiting on us to escort us up to the conference room. “Sssup Gina. Loving the hair.” I greeted her with a grin.

“Thanks, figured I’d go natural for a while.” She shot back. “So…what can you tell me about your office manager?” She asked Cede, threading her arm through our wife’s as she led us on towards the elevator.

Mercedes laughed. “I can tell you that I already know that you’ve been seeing him for a minute. In fact, you guys are coming up on your three-month anniversary soon, right?”

Gina grumbled, “Does the world know that their Rock-n-Soul princess is really a gossip collecting spymaster?”

“Oh, please, if they don’t realize that I live for OPG,” at all our looks of confusion, she explained before continuing, “Other People’s Gossip…they haven’t been paying attention.”

Gina’s laugh was infectious. It filled the corridor and made us all smile. “Okay, that’s kind of true.” She finally answered back.

“So, Gina, what do you want to know? But let me warn you, Grant is my people and he is good people, so he has my loyalty.”

“I assumed as much. I just…is he for real? Like he’s courteous and he’s amazingly detail oriented. He’s…he listens, you know. We talked a couple of time before we actually went on a date and the conversations were like so great. We talked about everything…I can’t tell you everything we talked about. But then when we went on our first date, he remembered that I hate red wine. Like when the waiter at the restaurant where he took me for our first actual date, ABC Kitchen, it was awesome. Anyway, when snooty waiter guy just kept insisting that I had to have the house red with the steak tips I’d ordered. But Grant, he was smooth as anything. He kept his calm and, I think, he really tried to leave it to me, but that waiter was just not accepting that I wanted what I wanted. So he, Grant not the waiter guy, finally said, very calmly but very sternly. ‘The lady asked for the rose because she doesn’t like red wine and the tannins make her ill. I am sure that your establishment’s pride in their house wines is well deserved, but she will be having exactly what she ordered.’ And it was so weird, because usually I find it so annoying when a guy tries to step in or defend me. But, Grant, he didn’t get aggressive or act all alpha male about it. He was just calm and assured.”

“So then, by the end of dinner, and yeah, the conversation was still really good, but I was doing a lot more of the talking than he was so, I start to think that maybe Grant is TOO quiet for me. Then the kiss at the end of the night was…it was holy damn. There are just no words for how good it was. That leads me to decide that we’d keep getting to know each other better. I invited him over to play some video games with me and some friends of mine. Kind of a test I give to guys to make sure that they can get along with my crew, because, I mean, friends are important. He was so perfect. He was still quiet, but he is this awesome listener. And the way he games. He was just so ugh, strong, dominant, ruthless…he dominated Mario Kart…it was fully epic. So, which is he? Clark Kent of Batman?”

“Why can’t he be both?” Sam asked her. “It sounds like you’re just figuring out that Grant was just raised right. Yes, he’s a quieter guy than a lot of the men you might be used to…but no real man worth his salt would sit back and let anybody badger his date into doing something she didn’t want to do. He just handled it in his own calm, cool, Grant kind of way. As for the gaming date…again, it just sounds like you aren’t used to guys who care enough about you to get to know your friends. And really, come on…all’s fair in love and Mario Kart.”

Gina gave him a fist pound on that one…because it was so very true. Cede agreed with Sam more verbally. “You might not realize it, but you’ve pretty much described how Sam and Noah behave…how my brothers behave. Grant is a lot quieter than any of them…and way more efficient and organized, but yeah. Besides it may just be that Grant grew up in a Latino neighborhood in El Paso with a sister who, beloved though she is, is also a lesbian. Probably, that left a mark on his personality. Maybe he learned to fight Dom’s battles with words and wit rather than his fists.”

Gina looked thoughtful. “I hadn’t really thought of that Dominique is so pretty and girly…I never really thought that she would get bullied for her sexuality. I don’t know, I guess I didn’t think that Grant would have had to deal with all that.”

Cede shrugged. “Dom came out to her family when she was sixteen. That would have put Grant at fourteen the time. I’d guess his classmates would have loved to have added ammunition against a smart, kind of nerdy guy like Grant. He’d have learned to fight back in a way that wouldn’t leave any black marks on his record.”

“Then again, from the times I’ve talked to his sister…Grant might be quiet because he couldn’t get a word in edgewise. Maybe he just became more cerebral because of that. Good news, he and his sister are thick as thieves and you kind of act like Dom. You basically never shut up either.” I teased.

I got lucky…we had reached the conference room and she couldn’t retaliate. Gina led us inside and, for the first time, I noticed that she was dressed more professionally that I’d ever seen her. Her day dress was a knee length, ivory sheath with black and blue circles of different sizes and brown leave or stick looking representations. Gina was wearing the professionally high collared dress with a short black blazer with frilly sleeves. Her pumps were black and ivory striped with seriously high heels. Her long, thick, dark brown waves were braided across the front of her head from temple to temple but otherwise rolled down her back almost to her waist. As she ushered us in, I couldn’t help but notice that there were a lot of unfamiliar faces at that big ass table. I did recognize Dave Meyers…the man had been active in the music video world since I was too young to remember. I was able to pick him out of the line up of new faces easily. There was one other guy there who just screamed ‘DIRECTOR’. It wasn’t until we were all being seated that I realized that it was the dude who’d directed Fight Club. I didn’t know a whole lot of things about Hollywood directors, but I sure as hell knew Fight Club, and dude’s director commentary had been both amusing and insightful.

However, those two were the only names I could put to the unknown faces at the table. Thankfully, Deborah had gotten close enough to us over the last couple of years to know…collectively, we had less than no patience. Deborah had the head of the big ass oval table. But to her right there was a new chick. She was Black, though possibly bi-racial…her hair was pretty fucking awesome. I wasn’t sure how long it would be if it wasn’t curly as all fuck, but it looked like it was pretty long and just twisted up into a massive clip deal at the back of her head. Her outfit was pretty cool too. She was wearing houndstooth skinny ankle pants with a black v-neck tank top and a boss ass red leather moto jacket. Her heels were pretty Rockstar too, high as hell red suede pumps with black studded leather straps across the top. Next to that new chick, sat Christophe in another one of his fly, fitted suits. Gina took a seat next to him. We found out when Deborah did the introductions that Gina was there to act as his assistant. Across from those two sat Anika and an Asian dude in his later twenties, maybe even early thirties. The young Asian dude was Anika’s personal assistant, Kevin. Anika, herself, was wearing a bright ass, might be able to see it from space bright, yellow dress and shiny black, super high heeled pointy toe pumps. Ms. Denise was next to Asian dude in her traditional all black, but she had a new face next to her. A Black chick who kind of reminded me of that chick rapper Eve. Only her skin and hair were both darker and I was pretty sure that the Lady of Ruff Ryder didn’t wear boho, flowery dresses.

Valerie Wilthorne was looking good in a bluish ivory, midi length, office dress and nude heels. I noticed that she and Deborah were seated pretty far from each other and I wondered if it was because they were both in blue, though Deborah’s silk, big sleeved blouse was navy as were the lines of blue in her skirt. The other vertical lines of the skirt were ivory and blue black. Like Valerie’s dress the skirt stopped mid-way down her calves and had a trumpet deal to it. next to Valerie sat a differently Asian dude. Where the younger Asian dude was Korean or Vietnamese or some other form of Southeast Asian, this guy was Indian Asian, and his hair was kind of what mine would probably look like if I ever let it get that long, thick and wavy, only his was darker. He had a pretty awesome goatee too. After we all took seats at the other end of the table, integrating ourselves among Bubbie, Haja, Brantley and Yasmine who were already seated there, Deborah jumped right in with the introductions.

“As you know, earlier this year, I was promoted and given charge of a new aspect of the A&R department. We’ve ultimately decided to call it Genre Development and the department is responsible for finding and cultivating acts like KAMA…those that break the genre barriers and create new music. Unfortunately, my work load in my new position is such that maintaining my role as your Artist Development Rep has become untenable. That being said, I am handing the job of planning for and ensuring the growth and expansion of your music and brand over to Cynthia McEachin. Puck, since you used to come to New York and go to clubs, you might remember her as ‘Original Sindi’. While she was climbing the ladder here, she was also a pretty popular DJ.”

Sindi laughed. “I’m pretty sure that during the time I was DJing, Puck was too young to get into any of the clubs I worked.”

I smiled charmingly. “I’m sure that I’d have remembered you if I had seen you spin. You will have to meet Cassidy, our in-house DJ…she’s awesome.”

Sindi agreed. “Now, let me tell you a little something about myself. I graduated NYU in two-thousand and seven with a BFA in recorded music and a BA in marketing and management. I’ve been in A&R for the past 8 years working my way up. For the next three months you will have my undivided attention before we even think about adding another artist to my plate. I would like to meet with the three of you one on one, or ya know, one on three as the case may be…so we can go over the plans in place and begin to develop our own strategies for progressing your career.” 

Hudson looked through our calendar and shook her head gently. I took the lead on responding to Sindi. “Our schedule is packed for the next few weeks. I believe that we can do a dinner meeting on,” Huds threw me the W sign and the numbers three and zero, “Wednesday the thirtieth.”

“I understand completely, you still have a lot of dates on your tour and the White House performance. I’ll make sure that the thirtieth is added to my calendar. I would much prefer to have the three of you and your manager meet me here or come over to my apartment rather than having to deal with trying to discuss business in a public place.” Sindi glanced at Hudson. “I’ll have my PA contact Ms. Friedman to finalize the arrangements.”

Denise spoke up once that was all settled. “I don’t know if you three realize this given my healthy, youthful glow…but I’m old.” She opened with a grin. “Since I’m turning seventy-one later this year, I’ve decided that it’s time for me to live the dream and buy a condo in beautiful Sarasota Florida. At the end of the year, Neima Davies-Jones will be taking over as your primary Video Developer and your main contact with the Art department here at Warner.” She gestured to the woman at her side…the one that reminded me of Eve. The boho-chic dress made a lot of sense if she was an artist like Denise.

“Nice to meet you Neima.” Sam said with a smile. “Ms. Denise, are you going to finally start up your painting again?”

“That’s the idea.” She shot back. “I’ll send you something, so you can tell the world to buy my shit.”

“We will do just that.” Cede chuckled. “Let us know when they throw your retirement party…we’ll get you something nice. Maybe some Florida appropriate clothes since you don’t seem to own anything that isn’t black.”

“Ugh, I guess I can manage color. But I refuse to dress like a little old lady.” Denise’s disgust was very real.

There was some chuckling around the table as every person who had ever met her knew that she would never ever be a traditional ‘little old lady’. I took the quiet moment to check out Bubbie in her red dress. Ruth Mayzer was something of a conundrum even to those of us who knew her best. Take her outfit for our meeting. She was rocking a really pretty red dress with a suplice neckline and a slit up the side of the mid length skirt. The dress followed her curves closer than a lover’s caress and she was rocking a pair of sky high Louboutin sandals. I was positive that she had changed after the morning show, because while she loved to get dressed up, all she wore to work were professional looking, comfy clothes. Things she could really move in. but the real question was, how old was Bubbie? I didn’t think that she was seventy, but I knew that neither Moms nor Uncle Saul knew how old she really was. They knew how many birthdays she had had in their lifetimes, but she was pretty careful not to reveal what year she’d been born in or anything that was completely determinative about her age. I knew that she hadn’t ever had plastic surgery, but if she’d done Botox or any of the other injectables, it had been really subtle. While she looked to be in her later fifties, early sixties, for all I knew my grandmother could have been closer to Denise Lee’s age than Deborah Jergens.

I tuned back in as Deborah stood up and started talking again. “The other, permanent new face at the table is Kunal Jaffrey. With the returns from your summer tour dates, you’ve cross…leap frogged over in fact, the threshold for having a dedicated accounting rep here at the label. Kunal is your accounting rep. He will be keeping track of the revenue that we receive on your behalf and making sure that you are paid your dividends and residuals in a timely manner. But more importantly, when we have meetings like this, Kunal will be here to offer immediate responses on things like Warner’s input for video costs or our promo budget for contractually mandated expenditures.”

“Cool. Hey, is it racist if I ask if you know Arjun Koothrappali?” I asked him only half seriously.

“No, it’s not racist. There are only about a billion people in India. Of course, we all know each other.” His delivery was completely deadpan. “I’m going to assume that you know Freddy Goldbaum that lives in my building too, right?”

I actually did know a guy named Freddy Goldbaum. He was almost as weasily as Jewfro…Bubbie made me go to his bar mitzvah when I was visiting one summer. “Is he a tall guy, maybe a year or so older than me? So skinny he kind of makes you think of a literal beanpole. Cause if so, I do think I know him. He grew up going to the same Temple as Bubbie Ruth. I went to his bar mitzvah. Bubbie gave him three hundred and twenty-four fucking dollars…he didn’t even send me a fucking card for mine.”

Kunal gave me a wicked grin before he started to laugh. “I hate it when my sarcasm bites me on the ass.”

Christophe is blatantly laughing at the Indian man in a way that states they are more friends than just two guys who work at the same place. “That’s funny, because I always love when I get to see it happen.”

Sam looked confused. “Why three hundred and twenty-four? That seems like a number that is both really random and oddly specific at the same time.”

I shrugged. “I don’t know. I got a lot of those weird type of amounts for mine. Didn’t even think to ask why.”

Bubbie shook her head with a sigh but it was actually Denise who answered the question. “Three hundred and twenty-four is the number eighteen times eighteen. Ruth probably gave him that amount because it is literally double the luck. Probably all of those ‘weird types of amounts’ were divisible by eighteen. Because 18 is considered a lucky number to the Jewish people. It is the numerical value of the word Chai, which means life.”

“Oh,” me, Sam and Cede all said at the same time. I probably looked a little uncomfortable because something told me I should have known that.

Thankfully, Cede always had my back. “Neima, Kunal, can you tell us about yourselves? If we’re going to be working together, we should get to know each other.”

After a moment of gesturing to take the first shot, Neima was the first to speak. “I’m thirty-one years old, I was born and raised in Houston, Texas to two Nigerian immigrants. My father is an Oxford educated doctor, my mother’s family immigrated to America when she was thirteen. She went to John Hopkins and is a certified registered nurse anesthetist. I myself attended Rice University. I have degrees in studio art, business and photography. For the last five years I worked with Amir Valinia making films and music videos in Houston. I was brought on especially to be Denise’s replacement, so I’ve only been here at Warner for four weeks. She is training me to, and this is a direct quote, ‘be able to handle all the crazy and the curious and the posers and the badasses’.” She finished succinctly.

Then it was Kunal’s turn. “Well, despite my earlier joke, I was actually born in Stratford Upon Avon in England, as you can probably tell from my accent. I grew up in Cambridge, near the university where my father teaches British Political History, where my mother teaches Shakespearean literature and where I earned my degrees in international finance and economics. I graduated and was head hunted by Charisma Records. I spent seven years working there before I came to America where I worked in LA at Universal Music Group. I’ve been here at Warner for the last ten years. It has been a while since I’ve worked with the artists. But I have gotten bored with only seeing other accountants, and well, Christophe, for years at a time.”

“I’m getting the feeling that the Brits both know each other.” Yasmine couldn’t seem to resist joking. The Admin was looking really nice. Sexy Mama had her beat hands down in the curves department, but in her beige and black business dress, black blazer with flouncy sleeves that stopped at her elbows and seriously high, beige heels, she’d definitely dressed to impress. From the looks of things, and gossip from Sexy Mama’s grapevine, she was impressing the hell out of Brantley.

Christophe nodded. “We’ve known each other since I first started here at Warner. I asked him for the best place to get good curry and he gave me a similar response to that which he gave Puck. Apparently, it was somehow racist to ask an Indian Brit where the best curry is. Like any of these Americans know really scrummy curry.”

“You’re a horrible snob, Christophe.” Kunal shot back.

I really did like that cat. But Deborah had a meeting to run, so before we could start clowning either Christophe or Kunal, she brought us back to order. “Well, as much fun as it is to watch Kunal and Christophe shoot the shit, we have a lot of ground to cover. Brantley, why don’t you start us off with the numbers from the summer dates.”

We all knew that was not a question so Brantley launched right in. “Alright, due to my original conservative estimates as to ticket sales, we’ve actually brought in seventeen percent more in ticket revenue than the numbers in my original prospective. We’ve already completed sixty-one of the seventy-seven scheduled dates. At this point we’ve grossed a hundred and fourteen million, one hundred sixty-seven thousand, three hundred and twenty-one dollars. Per the AE contract, of that Warner has received forty nine million, eight hundred thirty one thousand and twenty three dollars. Your percentage of the merchandise sales is currently just under fourteen and a half million, again per the concert contract terms.”

“Wait,” Kunal stopped Brantley and looked through the tour contract. “We only get five percent of the merch sales and we’ve received fourteen million, three hundred eighty-eight thousand, two hundred forty-four dollars already. That’s remarkable…what’s been your best-selling item?”

Brantley looked at Darcy signaling that she give the information from her bailiwick. “Believe it or not, our biggest seller was a small personal bottle of hand sanitizer on a KAMA purple rubber hook dealy that was a dollar item at every single stop…we sold over three and a half million of those. Of the larger ticket items though, a twenty dollar four-G logo flash drive on a purple lanyard was the biggest seller. A fifteen dollar logo embossed CD holder was next, which I had to do a massive reorder of after the Fourth of July. I’d not expected them to sell as well as they did given that hard CDs stopped selling a long time ago. The third highest seller were the twenty-five buck stemless logo embossed wineglasses…twenty-five bucks each.”

“So you aimed your merch sales at the parents rather than the teens?” the money whisperer asked her thoughtfully.

But Darcy shook her head. “No, after filling the staples, tee shirts, posters…that kind of thing, I took a more holistic approach when deciding what else to order. I decided to offer things for people across the board. No matter age, gender, budget…our concert goers could find something they wanted. I knew from personal experience that often teens saved really hard to go to a concert, but once they got there they couldn’t afford to spend anything on the merch. I’d have sold my soul to have something offered that cost five bucks or less. Then there are the parents who like the group and are taking their teens to the concert because they want to go and it is something they can do with their kids. One of the biggest responses post-concert on social media was how great it was to have a massive number of offerings at the merch tables. The vendors were as happy as the fans too, because they got to pick and choose what they sold, even with ten vendors and the Swag Shak, there was enough variety so that they didn’t all feel like they were all selling the same shit as a different stand.”

“Interesting…” Kunal nodded. “It certainly worked well.”

“Would that be something you’d be willing to let us teach to our other artists?” Sindi asked cautiously.

Darcy shrugged. “To be honest, it’s something they should have thought of themselves. You can utilize the information about thinking about fans more broadly…however the Swag Shak is actively copyrighted.”

“Understood.” Sindi assured her.

Brantley went back to his numbers. “I’ve updated my projections and believe that we will bring Warner an additional thirteen million in the remaining dates.” He nodded before Kunal or Deborah could say anything. “Yes, that is still a conservative estimate, but not as conservative as my previous numbers.”

Kunal looked everything over, then turned to us. “You’ve earned us more than ninety percent back over our initial outlay. On your first headlining tour at medium to large venues…your next tour is going to be a full on stadium tour…I cannot wait to see what you manage with even larger venues.”

“Wait, we’d assumed that next summer would be a medium venue European tour?” Haja interrupted.

Brantley was quick to cosign. “I’ve already been working on the dates.” That did explain hearing Hudson making calls in Spanish and French the last couple of weeks on the bus.

Kunal and Sindi both hurried to say that they too felt that Europe was the next step for us touring wise with Sindi adding, “The European dates can and actually should just be considered a delayed leg of the Aesthetic Enjoyment tour. That will save costs on both our parts. Well, on development costs. The transportation costs will be significantly higher, but there are ways to ameliorate that hit.”

Mercedes pulled out a full DIVA tone when she spoke up. “We are golden with touring next summer, but we are not touring the summer after we graduate. There will be our graduation, the other ones here in New York, we’ll have to go to one at Yale, one at Ohio State, another elsewhere in Ohio and two in California. Chances are good that at least two of our friends will get married. On top of all of that, we’re hoping to do our commitment ceremony at some point that summer. We’ll release a new album that fall, maybe around Halloween and promote it then we can tour after the New Year. But other than recording and releasing the album, twenty-seventeen is pretty much going to be a professional wash.”

Deborah looked thoughtful. “Maybe, maybe not.”

I was sure the look that crossed my face matched the one on Sam’s. One third shocked, mixed with one third pissed, mixed with one final third ‘oooh this better be good or Cede’s gonna rip her a new one. Actually that look was mirrored on the faces of most of the people on our side of the table and Anika.

“No, Deborah’s right. I mean, think about it, last year, People paid Jessica Simpson three hundred thousand dollars for her wedding pictures.” Sindi began to speak. “She was barely even still famous. If you’d be willing, I can put out some feelers. I should be able to get you three at least two or three times that. Maybe even more if you don’t mind me shopping some of the lesser rags.”

All three of us looked at each other thoughtfully. Sam spoke up first. “That won’t work. We’d want to have Lil Darlin, Pumpkin, Mara, Maea and Sloane all featured prominently in our wedding. But none of us want their pictures out in the press.”

Moms D agreed but then added, “You three should just have two commitment ceremonies. A nice normal one in Lima or maybe even here or a destination one for all your friends and family and a second ‘Public’ one for your industry people and the press.” She looked thoughtful. “Kurt would have a ball…you would be giving him as many as four ridiculously over the top dresses.”

Darcy was pretty enthusiastic about that idea. “We could live stream the public one on the site for the fans. Maybe even give a pay-per-view look into the behind the scenes of the day.”

I chimed in at that point, because that whole line of thought required some processing all on its own. “Let’s table this subject until the three of us have a chance to think this through on our end. We need to decide if we want to share our ceremony with the world like that. Because our engagement got shared and it wasn’t exactly well received.”

Sindi nodded but opened her mouth anyway. “Look, let me check out what the mags are willing to offer, just so you have all the information to make an informed decision.” She was a shark. There was no real way that we could say no to her going fact finding.

“Fine.” I agreed. Cede and Sam co-signed and we moved on.

Christophe decided to point something out to the new Money Talker, “hey Kunal, do you have their bump numbers?”

Kunal nodded. “Yes. I’ve got to admit, I was more than a little surprised by these numbers. I’ve double checked them twice since taking over your accounting. By the time you played your last concert in each region, you experienced a thirty-five to fifty-five percent bump in downloads and a twenty to thirty percent bump in actual sales.”

I’d been paying attention in all of our previous money meetings with Warner. I’d learned a lot in the few accounting classes I’d already taken and read several of Sexy Mama’s and Tana’s business textbooks. But I still didn’t understand his surprise. “That’s not really that far outside of expectations. Why are you surprised?”

“Because the online bumps I mentioned are not the singles bumps. Those are closer to four hundred and twenty percent up after your shows. I was talking about the number of downloads and in store sales of your entire CDs. And that is an average, your debut album sales surged fifty-five to sixty-one percent after you left each region. Which really doesn’t make sense. We should have seen those numbers after the entire tour, not after each of the regions. Then there is the fact that your numbers went up across the board after each region is even more crazy making. Why was it that when you moved from the southeastern region to the southwest your sales went up in Southeast Asia? You did a concert in Atlanta and one Miami and both times your sales went up in France. It just made no sense.”

Bubbie looked thoughtful then she pulled up something on her iPad. “Hip Hop styles are really popular in Southeast Asia…Cede and the girls were all in what could be considered ‘hip hop’ dress in the Southeast, mainly just because they were cool, temperature wise. Miami’s apparel was more fashion forward. The same with Atlanta. The French love their haute couture.”

Darcy picked up what Bubbie was putting down. “So, when people saw something they specially liked on one of the streams or on the YouTube videos, those people bought more music. So rather than just a sum total gain there were regional gains that aligned with international regions as well.”

Anika smirked. “There is a reason we have image consultants and stylists, Mr. Jaffrey.”

He rolled his eyes. “I get that, I do. I am not one however, so I missed to connection. My apologies. In that case, I will work with Anika to ensure that I understand the intricacies of the connections. Okay, and just for your edification, your pre-tour numbers were good as well. During the tour promo period KAMA experienced a ten percent jump in sales internationally, a thirty-one point two five bump domestically and a sixty-seven percent jump across the streaming services. Your music hit Tidal, and given that you’re on all of the big ten the most we were hoping for was a fifteen to twenty percent bump…sixty-seven percent was so far above and beyond, Helen had them run the numbers three times. Well done, chaps…well done.”

I threw a glance at Mrs. Gwen. I always liked Artie’s mom. She was good people. She was also getting happy as hell with Kunal’s report. I couldn’t really blame her. The reason we were on all the streaming services was that those were pretty much constant income. An actual CD was only purchased once, maybe twice, by the same person…but on the streaming services, every time an individual streamed our music we got a couple of pennies. If they downloaded the song that was more even pennies. And there were a hell of a lot of people downloading and streaming our songs. That added up to big, often recurring, money. Recurring money was a good thing, a very good thing. The streaming services had definitely changed the music industry, in ways both good and bad. But as far as our career went, we’d never had any other experience, so we dealt with the industry as it currently existed. Though, we did have better actual CD sales than many of our peers. That was a good feeling. I loved being better than other people. Probably a hold over from my years as a jock. I tuned back in as Kunal continued his reporting.

“As you’ve been on the road and pretty out of pocket since the end of May, I’ll run down some dates that you may or not be aware of. Your second quarter disbursement of residuals was rendered on July the fifth. The third quarter’s will be made on or around October fifth. The proceeds from the ticket sales, minus the portion designated for the promoters, the opening acts and, of course, Warner, have been deposited monthly with the last deposit made earlier this morning. It was delayed by yesterday’s holiday. September’s deposit will be made on or around October sixth or seventh. I will note that Mrs. Abrams is a bit quicker than we are since the Warner portions of your merch sales have consistently made it here before we were able to make our deposits to you. I’m sure that she will apprise you of those particular dollar amounts.” Mrs. Gwen nodded almost distractedly as she was jotting down the dates he mentioned. “However, I’ve also e-mailed Mr. Johnston and Mr. Clayton the figures as well. Do you have any questions?”

Sometimes I was an asshole. I knew that about myself. Sam and Cede found it charming…or just accepted me for exactly who I was. That moment was definitely one of those times. I raised my hand, and with a completely straight face asked, “Where is the best place to get good curry around here?”

There were exactly four beats of silence after my question. That silence was ended by Christophe dissolving into peals of laughter. Kunal gave him such a glare of promised retribution that no one else in the room could stop themselves from joining Christophe in his hilarity. Kunal got his stiff upper lip on, but his eyes looked like he was trying not to laugh himself. “I will make sure that your PA has the restaurant’s information by the end of today’s meeting.” He smirked at me and then glanced around the room. “If there are no other questions, allow me to be the first to congratulate you on having your fifth video to exceed one billion views on YouTube.”

“Damn,” I heard Sexy Mam breathe. “Thank you. We have been really luck to work with some truly awesome directors and Valerie and Ms. Denise are truly amazing. So we cannot take all the credit.”

Deborah smiled. “And that is a prime example of why KAMA has been and remains one of our favorite artists to work with. This also provides us with a great segue into the discussion of the next two videos for the Foolish Wisdom album.”

“Well, the next video for sure is ‘Stand by You’.” Sam stated reasonably before deferring to Bubbie.

She took over without missing a step. “I received the prelim storyboard in June and Kurt and I have outfit all the participants Noah, Sam and Mercedes asked to participate. There are a total of thirty ladies and twenty-seven men including the background singers and dancers, as well as the band members, friends and family. This list does include both of their daughters and all of their siblings, even the Twins and Sloane. Every single one of them will be in some shade of white.”

Denise and Neima took over thereafter. “This will be more of a montage video than you guys usually do. The way it’s currently envisions is to show several of the supportive relationships in your lives and the relationships of those people as well.”

“There will also be a fully choreographed dance sequence.” Haja pointed out. “Rainbow swears that it is epically beautiful. Supposedly, having both Mike and Joseph to play with in addition to Simeon and Jackson has her all inspired.”

Dave Meyers spoke up for the first time since greeting us. “And its ready? I know that you all are just coming in off your tour. Which, I caught your Staples Center show. Your original songs were all great…but your Jackson tributes were each and collectively fucking epic to watch. And Ms. Jones, your voice during ‘Human Nature’, not to slight Mr. Evans in the slightest…but your vocals gave me chills.”

“Thank you.” Cede said with a humble smile. “And yes, Rainbow has had the dancers working on the video choreography for the last month or so.”

Dave looked thoughtful for a moment but nodded. “Rainbow Razalan is a consummate professional. I’m sure that she will have your dancers ready to go. I do like the simplicity of the story board. I’ve seen the stills of Brandon’s Beach. It’s a great location. Can I get a list of the people we’ll be using as well as a breakdown of their relationships, so I can begin to set the blocking out in my head? I would love to film the fully choreographed dance sequence at either sunrise or sunset. The three of you will get the flip side of that coin. I’ll do the kid scenes as early as I can after breakfast when they are fullest and happiest. Happy kids are joys to work with…unhappy kids are not.” He said with a smirk that told us all he often used harder language to describe what unhappy kids were to work with. “Don’t worry, I will use wide angles and stay far enough back so that the little ones aren’t identifiable. I know that you have your concert Saturday evening, so we’ll film from sunrise to two and then, what time are you scheduled to leave Sunday?”

Hudson checked something. “Our flight leaves at eight, so we’ll need to be at the airport no later than six thirty. Those flying to Ohio leave earlier than we do, though.”

“So, we’ll wrap by the same time on Sunday…I’m sure that none of you will want to fly back all sandy and such from the beach.” Dave was a pretty thoughtful kind of guy. “Okay, I’ll get with Denise and Ruth after this meeting to go start on the preliminary staging…and I’m done. David, you’re up.”

Fincher smirked. “Thanks Dave. Well, Denise is allowing Neima to have the front seat on this one.”

“She needs to start somewhere, and with Valerie working this vid as costumer, I can trust you to bring me in if she need backup. Others would just let her drown if she started to flounder and then blame her if the video flops or goes too far over budget or whatever.” Denise shot back. “Its not a big worry. I wouldn’t have pushed her out the nest if I didn’t believe that she is ready to fly.”

“Well, I have to say, the storyboard prospect she brought forward was…it was inspired. Neima, you have to be the one to present the idea.”

Neima looked up. Her eyes looked a little startled. “Okay, well, as everyone knows, Ms. Jones, and Misters Evans and Puckerman asked for a video that required the smallest time commitment from them. With the nature of the lyrics, the next single, ‘Volvo Driving Soccer Mom’, really does lend itself to a very theatrical video. So, I thought that we should go full Hollywood, a mini-movie…even more so than ‘The Fighter’s video. To keep it major, without KAMA, we’ll need to cast names for the parts. This will take a couple of months from the go ahead because we will need to fill the roles and smooth out the, well, script, for a better word. Our idea is that there are these two, beautiful…but differently so…suburban moms with teenage, kids and especially, sons. Well, these women live across the street from or next door to each other. Their sons are friends and they take turns carpooling to soccer. There will be some form of transition here that will allow us to juxtapose their current lives with their salacious past. When we see their past we learn that the soccer moms have been friends for a lot longer than they were moms and back in the day they were strippers or porn stars or something.”

Sam immediately nodded. “They should be strippers…that can be shown on a video without the need of a parental advisory.” He theorized.

Neima made a note on her iPad even as David Fincher turned to us and asked, “So, ideally, who would you like to see as the Moms?”

“Salma Hayek.” I threw out immediately. “She’s the ultimate MILF.”

“I like that lady from Weeds…the brunette from Fried Green Tomatoes.” Sexy Mama added.

Sam shook his head. “Mary-Louise Parker, I love her, but she’s too skinny…how about that redhead from Mad Men…Christina something or other?”

“We want them to be different from each other…so why not both.” I returned.

Brantley tossed out. “What about Kelly Rowland? She’s on good terms with Mercedes.”

“How about J-Law? She follows you on all the platforms.” Deborah interjected. From there everyone had a name to throw out. I agreed with some, like the actress who played the Kat Dennings character in the Thor movies…she always reminded me of Darcy for some reason.

Sam started advocating for the lady who played Michonne from ‘The Walking Dead’. But Moms D put the kibosh on that one. “Sam, your brother’s mom used to be a stripper. Maybe, just to avoid any possibility of Jake feeling some kind of way about the video, we should stick to White actresses, just this one time.”

“Oooh, yeah…maybe. Especially if Alicia is watching our stuff. I mean, I don’t like the broad, but I wouldn’t want to hurt her feelings in case it caused her to get mad at Jake thinking that he had something to do with it.” Sam reasoned.

“So, I shouldn’t suggest Nia Long then?” I asked with a smile.

Moms D threw me the side eye. “You know good and well Jake said his momma swears that she looks like Nia Long. You’re literally suggesting her just to piss off Alicia.”

“Yeah, pretty much.” I acknowledged. “My real one is the Kardashian chick. She’s got the body for it…don’t know if she has the talent though.”

“Hey, what about Eva Mendes. I like her.” Bubbie popped up before anyone could point out the obvious shade I’d just thrown.

Neima, Valerie and David’s PA had taken down all our suggestions, I was pretty sure they’d even put down the names of the not so serious suggestions. Haja looked thoughtful. “I’ve got your transition. The sons they’d have friends, right? So maybe their friend or more than one friend has a crush on the moms. The crushers bribe the sons to look at their Moms’ computers or something and find the moms’ old pictures of their wild old days.”

“The camera can zoom into the picture and take us into the club.” David said with a nod. “I like it.”

“Good, let me know when you’re going to do the casting, I’ve got some guys I’d love to get in front of you.” Haja said with a smile.

David nodded, “I’ll have Jamison contact Yasmine when the date and time is set.”

From there we spitballed a few more ideas back and forth. We got so into the planning of the video that when the new interns showed up with lunch from Delectica, we were shocked to find we’d been in the meeting for almost two full hours. As we ate, our focus shifted back to Dave Meyers as we laid out the couples and thruples, all the different family groups and all the different best friend and friend group pairings. He was even looking forward to the caveat of filming Stevie and the younger sibs, Nikki and Beth in such a way that it didn’t put their faces out into the public consciousness. Once we’d wrapped up the discussion of the substance of the two videos, we turned our attention to prospective release dates.

Cede had the best of all possible ideas. “In addition to seven tour stops, we’ve got two major events happening in October. We have the Scarily-in-Love concert on Halloween and the White House performance is being filmed on Wednesday the fifteenth. Why don’t we target Tuesday the fifteenth for the single release date and video release date for ‘Stand by You’? Make sure that we’re all anyone is talking about for at least October and most of November.”

Sindi smirked. “And by the time people naturally stop thinking about those events, Haja and I can make sure that your Holiday album is back at the fore front of people’s minds again.”

“Hey, can we re-release the album with new pictures and a few extra songs we chose not to use on it the first go ‘round…and this year release ‘Joy to the World’ as a single with the proceeds from the cover going to My Two Front Teeth and the Family Giving Tree.” I suggested.

“If we’re going to release that song as a single and you actually want to raise any money off it…it will need a new video.” Denise pointed out.

Sam looked thoughtful. “I think we can make some time for that. It could be simple, just the three of us. I know the perfect person to direct it too. If we can get her quickly.”

“Who?” Sindi and Haja both asked simultaneously.

Sam gave a wicked grin. “Jade Quinn. She was awesome when she did our shoot for Rolling Stone, and best of all, she’s such a control freak, we’d pretty much just have to show up.”

“One problem with that…Quinn only uses her own people. We would literally have no control on our end.” Haja pointed out.

Mercedes smirked. “That’s actually why she’s perfect. Now until the time of the probable video release, our camp and our team here at Warner are working on two music videos and finishing out the tour. Our crew is finishing out the tour, prepping to perform at the White House, and we’re all working on an all hands on deck dinner concert. Plus too, she is hungry, she is ambitious…this could be great for her too. If we can get her, we kind of need her.”

Haja nodded. “Then I’ll get her for you. Sindi, Deborah…can I name drop if needed?” It was funny the asked that when we all knew that he would do whatever was necessary to get her agreement, as long as it was legal and or untraceable. Deborah smiled in a such a way that I knew she was thinking the exact same thing, but she and Sindi, following her lead, both nodded. For the most part, that actually seemed to end the meeting. There were a few more discussions held but nothing that was determinative of anything major.

At least that was what I thought, but after the main meeting broke up, Deborah pulled the three of us and our parents into her office. “Lyor wanted me to talk to you. He’d be here himself, but he’s putting out a minor fire with the board of directors…yet again.”

“They are still giving him trouble?” I asked her confusedly. “We’ve made Warner a shit load of money this summer alone, shouldn’t that have shut them up if nothing else did?”

Deborah shook her head. “Look a simple truth is that, in the grand scheme of things, the Board still views you as a novelty act. Despite your success and the success of Bruno Mars, who hops genres as the mood takes him, they are not backing Lyor decision to create the Genre Development department. Cowards that they are, they want to continue to churn out the same repetitive shit that every label is churning out. At the same time the Warner Board is wanting to cling to the status quo, the others of the big three are desperately searching for the next KAMA.”

Sam and I nodded while Cede spoke up. “Okay, we have three years left on our contract. Is Lyor sticking this out or is he ready to call it quits? How does this affect us?”

Deborah sighed. “I don’t know.” We all looked skeptical, but she continued. “I really don’t. Mainly because Lyor hasn’t made up his mind yet. His hope is to be here at least until twenty-twenty. But at this point, there are things the Board can do to make that unrealistic.”

“Alright, worst case scenario, Lyor says fuck you to the board and peaces out, will the new crew sideline us until the end of our contract or what?” I shot back.

“It could happen that way. I don’t think they would go that far. At least not until they knew where Lyor is going to land. If he lands at another label or even starts his own, they’d have to at least half ass back any of your projects. To do otherwise would be basically shoving you into another label’s arms and you guys are entirely too profitable for them to be stupid enough to do that.” She reasoned.

“Well shit.” George and Sander said at the same time.

Moms D and Mercedes seemed to have a whole conversation with their faces. Finally, Sexy Mama smiled. “Our team can handle it. If Warner, at least, fills its contractual obligations, Haja, Brantley, Daniel and Darcy…the four of them and we can make it work. I’m not gonna say that I’m not hoping for the best, but I think we can handle whatever comes down the road.”

Of course, learning about that mishegoss meant an impromptu meeting with our team. So rather than heading to find that curry that Kunal said was the best, we ended up heading to our offices and summoning Ethan just in case. Once we were all assembled in the conference room, Cede summarized our conversation with Deborah. “Well, shit,” once again seemed to be the general consensus.

Ethan was the least concerned. “It’s actually not that bad. No matter what, they are going to have to fulfill their contractual obligations. Right now, we actually lean on Warner, we don’t rely on them. there is a big difference there that will make all the world of difference if Lyor Cohen does leave the label before your contract is up. Haja is more than capable of handling the artist development aspects of Deborah’s mentorship. Let’s be honest, he’s already the first person you three go to to see if something you want to do for your brand is feasible. Lion’s Den and Fitzwilliam already force Hamilton to route all your PR through them. Oberon and Abishag have your style handled without any need of input from Rawlins. Meadow-lark has shown that he can handle tour planning all by his damn lonesome, and something tells me that we could easily lure that tour manager away given how much he has been creaming his jeans about the way your tour was run. So, as long as they support you financially, which they will have no choice but to do, they need KAMA more than KAMA needs them.”

We were all thoughtful. Darcy was not. Then again, her brain worked as fast as social media moved half the time, so that was probably to have been expected. “You know what, I’m not saying we go and tell them to shove their noise up their collective asses, but Harris Prime is right. We can formalize a worst-case scenario plan, but I think Lyor Cohen already did. Think about it. Mr. Cohen hand-picked the managers, he made sure that your Team was beholden to him and loyal to you guys. None of them really came from Warner, and he’s only had you working with people at Warner who are his people.”

“Okay, so, cool.” Sam finally said cautiously. “So, this isn’t as major a worry as it seemed on the face. Good. Well then, are we done, because it would be great if we had time to run by Campus tonight before the book store closes. Classes start tomorrow.”

Everyone looked at the three of us. Sexy Mama shrugged. “He isn’t wrong.”

Of course, the parents were all over it. So, we said our good byes…making sure that everyone had a reminder about our meeting for Thursday evening and headed out. The trip to Columbia’s campus wasn’t as heavily trafficked as I’d have expected and when we got there, Hudson suggested that we wait to get our books until after our professors told us which ones they wanted us to have. “You already have the digital copies, you can wait to get the actual textbooks. Just in case you change classes after you meet the professor…again.”

Moms D thought that was a great idea, too. So we ended up getting some Columbia gear for the younger sibs, and a new binder each. We spent most of our time signing autographs and helping the less affluent freshmen get school tees and hoodies that they didn’t have the cash for. We blew a few grand, and our hands were cramped like motherfuckers, but seeing the smiles on our fan faces and the pride on our parents’ it sure as hell wasn’t a bad trip. I could only hope that the rest of the semester was as at least as good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Give me some Happy.   
> Drop a comment and tell me what you think.  
> Have a nice day,  
> AnniKay


	4. School (Nirvana) & Find Ya Wealth (Nas)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ****THANKS to everyone who has taken the time to review! Your encouragement helps more than you know!****  
> Thank all of you for being avid readers & reviewers of my stories:  
> I appreciate all of you.
> 
> Boredom Busting Fic Reread Rec  
> Give Me More by LadiZee
> 
>  
> 
> DaughterofDarkness87 Thank you for always being such a big help. You have become a fundamental part of this world.

Chapter 4

School (Nirvana)  
Hudson PoV

The first day of classes for Mercy, Puck and Sam started off smoothly enough. I was up by five thirty which allowed me to follow my preferred yoga channel on YouTube for an hour before I showered and got dressed for a day in the office. I actually enjoyed wearing dresses and skirts and since I wouldn’t be riding the subway that morning, I decided it was a perfect chance to wear the oatmeal colored Nic and Zoe, mod twirl bias-cut skirt Bubbie had gotten for me during one of her visits to the tour over the summer. It went perfectly with a V-neck floral-print blouse with crochet trim that had been sitting in my closet patiently waiting on me to find something to wear it with. A sand colored cropped leather moto jacket made the outfit work appropriate and tied my top and skirt together perfectly. The jacket had been a gift from Darcy who swore she ordered it off Neiman Marcus’ website and accidentally clicked the wrong size. There was a very good chance that I would have accepted it without the ruse…it was a really cute piece. A pair of nude patent leather, Cole Haan opened toe, wedge pumps and a pair of simple diamond stud earrings that had been a gift from Mama Dani completed my outfit.

A lot of mornings, Darcy went with me to check in with our bosses but that morning, she headed immediately into the office. She, Haja, Brantley and Daniel were meeting to begin to make us more self-sufficient in preparation for the worst-case scenario on the Lyor-slash-Warner issue. On top of that Darcy was also planning and readying things for the two FBI agents who would be joining us the following Monday. Their covers had been established and Penelope Garcia…or Phoebe Moss…had submitted her resume and Darcy wanted to reconfigure her work load to allow Penelope to have at least a little bit of something to do on the KAMA side of things. So I waved her off as I headed to check in and see if I was needed before heading to the office myself.

The Commune-slash-Klaine-slash-Bartana brownstone was humming with activity even at seven thirty in the morning. Nikolette was looking cute as a button in a pair of skinny denim capris, a fitted purple, baseball tee shirt with a picture of Hagrid holding a Cerberus puppy with the words ‘It’s So FLUFFY!’ above the picture and a pair of purple low top Converse All-Stars. I was sure that Mercedes was definitely up because Nikolette’s wavy hair had been braided into four French braids that met and fell down her back in a Dutch braid that was really, really thick. While her shirt was definitely her MeDe’s influence, her backpack was definitely all her Papa’s. BB8 was proudly displayed on her backpack of the day. I knew that she had a few that she could choose from, including a Hogwarts one. She just liked mixing things up. The growing young lady was not alone at the table. Brittany and Kurt had both already joined her.

I waved at both of them and pressed a kiss to the top of Nikki’s head. She was an awesome kid. “Abah, MeDe and Papa will be down in a couple of minutes. It took MeDe longer than she thought it would on my hair.” She told me as Violine shoved a plate of breakfast into my hands. “Bautista made funny face pancakes.”

“Oooh…perfect back to school breakfast.” I told her with a smile. I looked at my plate and was happy to see that Bautista’s funny face pancakes were the silver dollar size and she’d only given me three of them. I tended towards grazing. I ate a lot over the course of a day. But that amount was divided among six or so smaller meals rather than three big ones.

Another plate appeared at my elbow as I took a seat at the breakfast bar. Bautista was an amazing housekeeper. How, with all the people she fed most days, she remembered that I hated having pancake syrup touch my eggs and bacon baffled me. Before I had to wonder if I should go check in with Sam, Cedes and Puck, they appeared. Over breakfast, Sam asked me to double check with his cousins and make sure that their move had gone easily and that they and their triplets had gotten settled in. I made note to do so. I also noted Puck’s desire that I make sure that the road crew was back and would be ready to fly out on Friday evening. Other than that, I really only needed to keep an eye on my phone for any texts, emails or calendar reminders that they may send me. Nikolette also found a permission slip she needed signed for a field trip to the Hayden Planetarium. I smiled when her father signed it and sent in a check that would pay for Nikolette’s fees and ten additional kids as well. He truly hated the thought of any kid not getting to go someplace fun, just because their parents were unable to afford the fifty bucks. And given how much the school’s tuition and fees cost, there were probably quite a few of them who could use a little help.

Bautista had us all fed and out the door with alacrity. As soon as Binkie came in to let us know that our ride was ready to head out, she handed Nikki a dual compartment lunch bag that matched her backpack. I was a little surprised to find a large black Mercedes Sprinter waiting on us. But it wasn’t a bad idea. Including, a newly arrived EJ, and the Rangemen; Junior, Binkie and Manny, there were fourteen of us carpooling together that morning. The drive took us to Columbia first. Noah, Sam, Mercy, accompanied by Junior and Binkie, and Blaine disembarked there. Our next stop saw Manny escorting Nikki and Adam into The Studio School. Brittany waved to us happily as we let her off outside the Alvin Ailey School of Dance. She was starting the last year of her certificate program at the iconic dance school. I was dropped off next at the offices in Chelsea. The van’s driver would drop off Santana and Artie on their way back to the Rangeman Lower East Side offices. I was feeling quite kind, so I swung by Empire Cake Bakery and took a wide selection of breakfast pastries up with me.

I wasn’t the last to arrive at our office, that distinction technically went to Mr. Ben who didn’t come in that morning until around ten thirty. Mrs. Gwen had arrived earlier as she was in the meeting with Haja, Brantley, Daniel and Darcy. Though she didn’t, technically, have to be there until nine, I was unsurprised to see that Brigid was already manning the phones. I gave her a smile and let her select a raspberry scone from the tray I carried. Mentally, I couldn’t stop myself from comparing Brigid’s black, chic, Victorian looking blouse and black high waisted trousers and Doc Martins with Mercedes’ white, blue, peach and black striped, high waisted maxi dress and blue suede, d'Orsay espadrille sandals. The two looks were as different as different could be and yet I knew that Mercedes would never ask Brigid to change her style or allow Haja to do so either. I dropped my precious cargo in the breakroom, grabbing myself an almond croissant and pain au chocolat while I brewed myself a Sumatra blend coffee. I made my way to my office and was happy to note that it was as tidy and clean as I’d left it.

I immediately set to work emptying my email inbox, as well as KAMA’s professional one. I touched bases with Chas and Carmine Puckett as well as Samantha Puckett-Benson. The purpose of the call was to make sure that their move-ins had gone smoothly, and they had everything that they needed. I quickly found out why Sam hadn’t made the call himself. He was avoiding getting fussed at by all three of his cousins. They had arrived to fins both large apartments fully furnished and the two baby bedrooms were completely stocked with everything the recently turned two year old triplets needed. It was an interesting conversation. Freddie Benson kept reminding his wife that she should be appreciative, while she kept threatening to do unimaginably violent things to her cousin, my boss, for spending more that she felt comfortable with, it was pretty funny. Chas and Carmine’s reaction to the amounts Sam had spent on their space was very similar to Samantha’s. Especially since he’d unilaterally decided to upgrade them to a three bedroom over a two and turned the third bedroom into a playroom for the triplets. Though, neither Chas not Carmine were very upset by all the cool things Sam had put in place for the babies. It seemed to be a universal Puckett trait to love children and be willing to do anything and everything for them.

Then I took an hour verifying the readiness of all of those who would be going to Puerto Rico with us, except of course those who were attending classes. Then I dedicated the next hour of my day confirming flight and travel information. In Puerto Rico, we had rooms at the hotel where Erika’s father and brother in law worked as concierges. It was an older hotel and was undergoing renovations but I hadn’t been able to book the number of rooms needed at the Hyatt where Mrs. Calderon worked. While I was at it, I went ahead and double checked our lodging in Barbados for the video filming weekend the following weekend. In all honesty, this was the biggest hotel booking we’d ever done. We took over twenty-five of the regular rooms, four of the family suites, three accessible ocean view suites and one of their penthouse suites for the entire weekend. And as many rooms as we had booked at our primary hotel, we had almost as many rooms booked at the Courtyard by Marriot hotel for our road crew and Dave Meyers’ camera operators and film crew. Still, even though we had a higher number of rooms than usual, we were actually below budget on the overall hotel costs.

I made sure that our transportation was booked for both weekends as well. While Warner and Rangeman were flying in the trucks and gear, the busses were all staying in New York. So I had needed to hire several thirteen passenger vans to cart us around both islands. It would take nine of them for the Barbados trip, but the rental company assured me that they had enough vehicles to fill our needs. While Barbados was on my mind, I took a moment and reached out to Rita Howard at the charity Noah had fallen in love with in Atlanta to make sure that the winners of their auction had received the packet Darcy had sent her that included the concert tickets, Delta vouchers and hotel information. It wasn’t exactly necessary, but I wanted to make sure that I had their names so that KAMA could either give them a shout out at the concert or glad hand them during the VIP walk through. I also shared the information with Lester and Trigger at Rangeman to give them extra time to do a comprehensive background check.

Once I was satisfied that everything would run smoothly for our two Caribbean trips, I reached out to Meng at the Mala Project to make sure that they were set for our dinner meeting the following evening. “Your party of forty-six will have the run of the restaurant for the evening. We will make sure that you guys have an amazing evening. Hopefully, your bosses will be moved to put out a good word for us. As you know we’ve only just opened and in the restaurant business, word of mouth is everything.”

“I can state without reservation that if your restaurant is as good as you say, there will be no stopping Puck, Sam, Mercedes or Darcy from letting the world know.” I was fairly certain that it went without saying that if it turned out to be a negative experience the same held true as well.

I realized that it was almost noon, only when Darcy and Yasmine stuck their heads in to ask me if I wanted Panera for lunch with them or Num Pang Kitchen with Brigid and the guys. Of course, my answer was always Panera. I had a very rigid rule when it came to trying a new restaurant. If it scared Darcy, I did not need to try it. She loved food in an almost unhealthy way. She loved trying new ethnic dishes and places and all of it. So if there was a new place she didn’t want to try…I felt that was reason enough to avoid it. After a great lunch of a roasted turkey and avocado BLT and a green goddess Cobb salad, I headed back to Columbia. Mercedes had texted me a list of the text books and other things her professors said she needed for her Columbia classes. Unfortunately she didn’t have the time to go and get them herself. There simply hadn’t been any time in her schedule before her first Juilliard class. Technically, she could have skipped lunch and made her schedule…but that was why she had me.

I was surprised to run into Blaine walking into Columbia’s campus bookstore. “Hey, Huds…it looks like it might be a mad house in there. We should stick together.” So we did. I found that I liked going around the store with Blaine. He wasn’t as tall as Sam or Noah, so he didn’t end up striding away from me on accident. But, despite his slight build, he still seemed to convey a sense of physical aptitude. It was as if his aura told others that while he might not look dangerous, he also shouldn’t be underestimated. Within moments, I realized how much of a boon it had been to find myself in his company that day. Shopping was infinitely easier with him than it would have been without him. He shared MeDe’s psychology class and the accounting class that both Noah and MeDe had had earlier that morning. So, he knew exactly what I was there to get. Even more, while Blaine was shorter than most of the other men in their household, he was taller than me and therefore his reach was longer. He just made sure that he grabbed two or three of the necessary materials.

With Blaine’s assistance, I was able to get everything Mercedes needed as well as the few things Sam and Noah texted me when I’d asked them for their lists as I was already going to get MeDe’s texts and iclicker. The guys had planned to just double back after they left Juilliard. Both of them expressed happiness that there would be no need for all the extra running around. It had taken all three of my bosses a significant amount of time to get used to allowing me to run their errands…the progress that had initially been made was actually reversed somewhat by my acceptance into their family circle. After establishing that I was personally important to them, not just professionally, they seemed to revisit the idea that asking me to do my job was ‘taking advantage of me’. Sam seemed to have the hardest time with it…but Gabby had said something to convince him that if I had nothing to do, it would be a waste of my time and their money. She had a point. As much as I did enjoy acting as their liaison with the rest of their Team when they weren’t able to and their final layer of defense between them and the rest of the world, during their time of ‘backsliding’ I’d gotten so bored I’d had to create work for myself.

Though, since everything had corrected itself, I’d never been happier. Everyday I worked with people I cared about. I made others’ lives happier, in my own small way. And I got to learn something new every day. My new knowledge wasn’t all business and marketing and contract law either. While my bosses were in classes they were paying for me to learn German and Italian. Granted it was because I was to serve as their primary translator the following summer. But the truth was that given Mercedes’ fluency in French and Noah’s in Spanish, they would probably need my assistance much less than they thought. Still. I enjoyed learning new languages, they came rather easy to me. I didn’t consider any part of my job to be as much fun as conversing with Sam in Klingon or Nav’I or with Puck and Darcy in Spanish or MeDe in French.

That afternoon, after my sojourn into the world of collegiate retail, I had to put my nose back to the grindstone. The tour buses had arrived back in Manhattan Monday evening as expected. Tuesday, the drivers had taken them in to be cleaned, and serviced. While on the road, the maintenance had been lighter, oil and fuel filter changes, the chassis components had been greased, and there had been a quick safety inspection of brakes, lights…that kind of thing. Those had been done every ten to twelve thousand miles like clockwork. However, while they were in dry dock, as it were, it was suggested that we have the more major maintenance done…so they were all receiving major service with a full-on Department of Transportation inspection where things like dosing injectors, replacing DEF filters, air filters and cab filters were all performed. Brantley and I handled making sure that that was all done, and the proper persons paid. By Wednesday evening, the tour busses were ready for the remaining US tour dates. Additionally, I met with Lamar and he walked me through the work the road crew had accomplished since their return. The trucks had been unencumbered by passengers, other than the two drivers, so they’d driven straight through arriving in the city early enough that the fabricators Warner had hired had had all the time they’d need to make all the needed repairs and cosmetic refurbishments needed to the sets, lighting and rigs of the stages. The trucks themselves had undergone the same rigorous maintenance as the busses. Everything was in readiness for the trucks and their precious loads to leave for San Juan that Friday morning.

Thursday morning began much the same as the day before. Though on Thursday, Darcy joined me in joining our bosses for breakfast. When we arrived, all the ‘adults’ were already dressed and around the breakfast bar. I spoke with them about Mills desire that they find time in their schedule over the next few weeks to look at ‘showplace’ apartments for KAMA. Commune would continue to live in the brownstone…but giving KAMA a posh Manhattan address could only increase their brand. All talk of business ceased when Nikolette came running in the kitchen, her dark brown hair a banner behind her. I couldn’t help but smile when I realized that she and Sam were both wearing shirts that read the same universal truths. ‘Science is real; Black lives matter; No human is illegal; Love is love; Women's rights are human rights; and Kindness is everything’ was blazoned across Sam’s heather gray tee and Nikki’s pretty blue one. When they noticed what I was smiling at, the Papa and his Lil Darlin’ gave each other a fist bump. Since Ethan didn’t need to be at the office as early that morning, he and Manny took EJ, Avery and Nikki to school. The rest of us used public transit to get where we needed to go.

Darcy and I went a bit out of the way to catch the train so that we could walk with Commune, Blaine Woody and Junior to the Columbia campus. “Huds, do you know why Ben and Gwen headed out so early this morning?” Mercedes asked me curiously.

“I believe that they are starting the morning with interviews for the second receptionist and to replace the three part-timers who are now full time and the six others who graduated and got more prestigious positions.” I replied. “On Monday, they will start interviewing for the Amor Verissima Human Resource director and generalist. Once they have those positions filled, they’ll be back in October to find the Chief Operating Officer. They’ll fill from the top down when the offices are ready after that.”

“Are they still on schedule to open immediately after the first of the year?” Sam asked reasonably.

I nodded. “The contractors should be finished shortly before Thanksgiving. That’s the target date…they said the latest they would be finished would be the very end of November. Either way that gives Haja and Kurt a month or so to work their magic.”

“Chile please, you know as well as I do that the furnishings, décor and decorations have already been decided upon…they’re just waiting for the go ahead.” MeDe chuckled.

It was more than likely true. I knew that the designing duo had worked on the project all summer. “You’re going to your Tuesday-Thursday classes today right?” They all nodded. “Great, let me know if you all need anything. I’ll just order it online and it will be here on Saturday at the latest. Blaine that includes you. I know that you’re coming with Kurt tonight and will be traveling with everyone this weekend. If you need me to order anything, let me know. You can settle up with the bosses when-slash-if they let you.”

Blaine shot me a grin. “Thanks for the offer, but you don’t have to. I’m done by twelve thirty today. I’ll have tons of time.”

They peeled off to head to their respective classes as Darcy and I headed down to the subway. “Okay, so Puck wants you to check with the rest of the team and see if it we could tap Yazzy to plan the employee holiday party this year. Give her the budget and let her start to transition from Admin to Event Planner. His theory on it is that the move would let her and Brantley be more equal on the totem pole. There is some worry that, from the outside looking in, their relationship could be perceived as kind of sketchy, ya know?” Darcy shared the conversation and Noah had held as we walked with me.

“I’ll speak with Haja and Ethan before the meeting this afternoon. We may need to leave Brantley out of the decision all together, if only for the sake of appearances.”

We made it to the offices without getting harassed on the Subway, which was always a nice way to start the day. The morning flew by. By the time it was time for the Team Meeting, I was so grateful to step away from my desk, it was almost ridiculous. Haja and Ethan had both agreed with Noah and Darcy on the elevation of Yasmine to KAMA Event Planner. Haja had even gone so far as to evaluate his discretionary spending budget to find the capital that would allow us to be able to start the process as soon as possible. “We can easily shift Yazz into the smaller of the two standby offices and rework the larger room to contain two desks for when Gwen and Ben both need to work from here.”

I agreed. Not that I ever gave design input. That was not my bailiwick. Instead I shot a text to the three head honchos and soon had replies from all three. “Commune says to go ahead and have Ben repost Yasmine’s position and give her the news of her promotion so they can announce it to the rest of the employees at the dinner tonight. I don’t think Yazz will mind…”

Ethan interrupted me. “Text Benzie, Flood and Seuss back and tell them we should offer Yasmine’s old position to Brigid and then just hire two new receptionists. Brigid can handle more than just the phones and it would be wrong to hire externally if she can do and wants the position.”

That thought led to a postponement of the KAMA Team meeting while Haja, Ethan, Ben and I spoke with both Yasmine and Brigid. Ultimately, and perhaps unsurprisingly, both Yasmine and Brigid took the new positions and the raises that came with them. Like Ethan, Ben preferred to promote from within and then hire the lowest level positions. “It allows you to better build company morale, employee loyalty and in making sure that you have the best people.” He told us with a small smile. “Knowing that there is room for advancement will make a person stay with any halfway decent employer. It’s a scary thing to have to take the risk of changing everything just to move forward.”

I reminded myself to relay that information to MeDe, Sam and Noah. It reminded me of something Papa Benton had said about the difference in corporate America of his youth and how things seemed to work today. People no longer stayed with the same company, moving up the ladder as they grew. I knew that MeDe, Sam and Noah hoped to change that for their organization. The Team meeting finally happened after the Staff had left to go get ready for the employee dinner. Haja actually started it by bringing everyone up to speed on the personnel changes. I may have been wrong, but I was pretty sure that Brantley looked both a little embarrassed at the implication and a whole lot relieved that a solution had been found before a problem had arisen. “Ben is hopeful that he will be able to fill both receptionist positions before he returns to Lima in two weeks.”

“It should be fairly easy since I’d already posted the position, in the effort to get Brigid some help, and have narrowed things down to the in-person interviews.” He replied humbly.

I made a note before I raised Mercedes suggestion. “Haja, Mercedes wants to know how feasible is it that you’d be able to personalize Yasmine’s new office and redesign Brigid’s new space to more reflect her aesthetics?”

Haja looked thoughtful. “I have some ideas. It won’t be possible until the FBI agent is done with what will be Yasmine’s office. But it shouldn’t be a problem.”

I made a note to get with Sam, MeDe and Noah to find out what the budget for the remodels would be. The meeting itself was just to bring us all up to speed on what we would need to do for the remainder of the year. Which basically boiled down to get through the remaining tour dates, survive the video filming…other than Ms. Gwen and Mr. Ben, we were all expected to appear, either alone or with our significant other. We then could focus a bit more on the White House performance. Though awesomely important for their career, it was actually a relatively minor performance. The main bulk of the work was on Bubbie and Kurt. The Crew was going, but only the background singers, Dave and Justin were actively going to be on the stage. Still, we all knew that performing for the President was a huge deal, especially for such young singers. After that, it would only be two weeks or so before the Halloween ‘All Love is Beautiful’ event. I had seen the work Yasmine had already put in on that event. She deserved her promotion. After Halloween, there were five more weekend tour dates before we could finally put that massive undertaking to rest.

There had been a purpose to leaving the month of December free of any big commitments. We weren’t sure yet, but there might be a small something for the new office opening. There would probably be something for the LA apartment building. But mainly the time was left open so that the bosses would be able to concentrate on their finals and celebrating Christmas with their family. That was definitely important since the month contained more than a few must attend events for the trio. Of course, we also discussed the possibility of losing our main supporter at Warner. But at that time, there were just too many unknown variables to do more than preliminary planning. However, we did manage to do the hell out of some preliminary planning.

We’d sent the Staff home to get changed at one. The nine of us on the KAMA management team left the office around two thirty. Darcy and I made it home in just under an hour. We’d lucked into some technical problem delay on the subway. Thankfully, we each had our own bathrooms and were able to get showered, wash our hair and get dressed in the two hours we had to spare. Without trying, Darcy and I both ended up in two shades of blue. Actually, Darcy’s curve hugging Chiara Boni La Petite Robe sleeveless mosaic floral-print dress’ ‘flowers’ were several shades of blue in each. My own dress was a simple, navy blue, lace, fit and flare that had three quarter length lace sleeves and it stopped above my knees. Darcy gave me another of her intricate braids this time two Dutch braids that was combined into one five strand braid at the base of my skull. I helped her create a simply lovely style that showcased how beautiful her dark brown waves really were as they flowed down her back almost to her waist. Both of us chose traditional ‘nude’ heels. But that was where all similarities ended. Darcy’s heels were twice as high as mine with a very non-traditional heel shape. She also went for a closed, pointed toe and a very stark profile. My heels were sandals and had a more intricate pattern.

I wore a pretty pair of gray, baroque-style, pearl drop earrings but those, a gray, white and nuage multistrand pearl bracelet and my gorgeous Atlas watch were all the jewelry I chose to wear. Darcy went bolder and yet somehow subtler with her jewelry. All of it was silver, a ‘big ass’ cocktail ring, a nice watch, a great bracelet and a pair of silver and turquoise earrings. Her makeup was so precisely applied, a gorgeous bluish-smoky eye that make her eyes look like blue flames and a bright, bold, red lip. I’d slid on some gloss and I considered myself ready to go. Darcy shook her head and dragged me back to my bathroom. While I wasn’t enthusiastic about being her dress up doll, I was grateful that she was quick and efficient in her movement. A dusting of powder, a gray kohl liner around my eyes, a gently brown and gold shadow on my eyes and a golden rosy lip were quickly applied and I was pronounced ready to go.

The walk to the Commune Brownstone was quick and thankfully unencumbered by any bothering of bystanders. I was so happy to see that everyone was ready to go when we arrived. Nikki was going to spend her evening with Seth and Ryan. Ryan, along with Blaine, had undertaken the job of teaching Nikolette kickboxing and self-defense. While Seth had decided to help Sam educate Nikki on the wonderful world of comics. He was also the go-to person to help her in her grammar assignments when Mercedes was unavailable. They were also watching EJ and Avery…teaching them much the same things. Almost everyone agreed that it was great exercise and something that it was never too early to start in training. A lot of people would have thought it strange to have two college age men for baby sitters, but Seth and Ryan were a dynamic duo. They were also trust worthy and had earned even Xena’s approval over the previous year or more. So, they were actually Ruth and Commune’s baby sitters of choice. Ethan was a harder sell, but Sandy Cohen had won him over even more than his boys. Amanda liked both boys…though Seth was clearly her favorite. There was something just so inherently, accidentally honest about him and his babbles and rants, she enjoyed talking to him. I wondered when he would realize that she was picking his mind about the business practices of his mother and grandfather. Amanda called those two a case study in crony capitalism.

I took a quick perusal of what the others were wearing. I was a little surprised that MeDe was in red. Usually she left that color for Santana if they were going to be in the same place at the same time. Noah was wearing a charcoal pinstriped suit with a white shirt and red tie. Sam’s shirt and tie were also white and red respectively, though his suit was black. They both looked incredibly elegant. I was almost positive that Sam and Noah had picked out their own clothes for the evening. Kurt was usually subtler in linking the trio together through their fashion. Artie’s suit was as light a gray as Noah’s was dark. His bow tie and pocket squares were both an olive and gold silk jacquard. I was not at all surprised that Brittany was in an olive colored dress with gold accessories and Santana’s color scheme was the same, just reversed. Both women’s dresses were form fitting halters that looked almost identical except for the color. Both trios looked adorably cohesive, though Santana would hate to hear it stated that way.

Both Kurt and Blaine were dressed for the evening out. But Blaine, in his slate blue suit, looked like a young businessman. So much so that Santana may have spent several hours calling him American Homo. Kurt, on the other hand, despite being in a similarly cut suit looked much more like a Dapper Young Man about Town. Kurt’s bevy of browns made his stormswept eyes look bluer and even more striking. Violine and Patrick were meeting us at the East Village restaurant. Ruth, Ethan and Amanda, however, showed up shortly after Darcy and I got there. Ruth Mayzer looked so very Manhattan. She was wearing a fashion forward homage to a little black dress and nude heels and had accessorized it all with crystal and silver jewelry to match her Tiffany’s diamond and silver watch. Ethan’s suit was perfect for a big city lawyer, Brooks Brother, custom tailored and a dark navy blue. His wife was wearing a flowy, light pink, crinkle satin, ruffled wrap dress with a cold shoulder sleeve. With everyone assembled, and the arrival of Hitta and his team’s, we all headed out.

The drive could have been worse. Hitta had an uncanny ability to cut through even the worst of Manhattan evening traffic. He managed to make the whole thing in just under forty-five minutes during a time of day when it could have and probably should have taken twice that time. The red brick building was on the outer edge of the East Village proper. As per our ideal planning, we were the first to arrive, thankfully. Meng met me out front and I was quickly able to settle our agreed upon bill in advance. We’d simply averaged out the costs of each of the four courses and I paid that average per person per course. For example, the appetizers ranged from seven to fourteen dollars. So, we agreed upon four hundred and eighty-three dollars for the first course. The restaurant had only been opened for a little bit over a month, so with our arrangement, they weren’t losing money on us and if the word of mouth from our party was good, then they should have one hell of a year. 

Our arrivals were scheduled in a staggered fashion. Those of us who comprised the management team all arrived at the restaurant by six which allowed MeDe, Sam and Puck to talk with us about a few decisions they’d reached and for us to talk to them about a few things as well. Noah started things off. “Alright, Saul’s already move the money around. We’ve put a full third of our profits of the tour merch into the payroll account for the Amor Verissima. Another third has been put towards the payroll for the team, crew and staff. The last third of the merch sales will be used to grow AV’s property portfolio.”

I thought about that. I knew that the more than eighty-six million to each payroll accounts would certainly leave AV’s and the KAMA Team, Staff and Crew’s personnel accounts flush for roughly twenty years. I smiled. Given the nature of most young celebrities, it was always interesting to note that our bosses rarely fell into any of those usual pitfalls. There had some worry expressed among the parents that Sam, MeDe and Noah were not letting themselves enjoy their college years, but no one seemed to know how to broach the subject with them. I hadn’t had anything near a normal college experience, so I wasn’t really able to even see the parents’ point of view on the issue. I shrugged off my thoughts and put my focus back on the triad the world called KAMA.

“Now the figures we just rattled off were all from our net merch profit. There were things we took out before we calculated our take home pay.” Noah said with a smirk. “The difference is comprised of your cuts. Brantley, Daniel, Darcy, Ms. Gwen, and Haja, each of you have earned your commissions for your hard work on this tour. You’ll have the commission from the merch sales in your accounts by the time we get back from Puerto Rico.”

“Ms. Gwen, and Ben just need to work their tax magic schtick on them first.” Sam chuckled. “The commissions from the gate take won’t go out until after the last tour date.”

“Fortunately, Gwen and Ben have already done a lot of work on our behalf. Through their quick and efficient handling of the taxes, we’ll be able to give out the bulk of the bonuses for the team, crew and staff tonight. Granted, it won’t hit their bank account until either Saturday or Monday but at least we can tell them about it and give them the stubs for the bonuses tonight.” MeDe smiled beautifully. I took that as my cue and pulled the alphabetized envelops containing the hard copy stubs of the bonus checks from my messenger bag. I handed them to the triad and Mercedes took them with a smile. When she spoke again, it was to just me…mostly. “Hudson how did the conversations with Brigid and Yasmine go?”

“They went as expected. Ben is now working to find us two receptionists and you have an on-staff event planner. Said on-staff event planner wanted me to remind you that her job would, by definition, include helping you plan family events as well as planning the professional ones.” Sam and Noah both visibly blushed. We all knew that without that reminder the thruple would automatically assume that they were only supposed to use Yasmine’s service for KAMA related things. “And Brigid is going to make a great management team assistant. Yazz is planning on training her while Brigid is training the new hires. Which works out perfectly because Yasmine won’t be able to move into her new office until Ms. Moss is finished with her training with Darcy.” I summarized. I made very sure to use the cover name and story in public as we all been advised. In fact, as far as any of the staff members knew, Ms. Moss was the first of Ben’s new hires who would be training in the office starting on Monday and then working from her home once Darcy was satisfied that she was fully up to speed.

“That’s great.” MeDe nodded. “Ben, will we be able to make an offer soon for the receptionist positions? Getting them started soonest is now a priority.”

Ben Zizes thoughtful face was very scary. He looked like he wanted to rip the heads off of teddy bears and bathe in children’s tears. But then he smiled and looked like he was an actual teddy bear himself. “That depends. I’ve started with the receptionist interviews first, so I have whittled the choices down to five. The original plan was to have them come in for a second, in person interview next week so you could meet them and decide on your favorite. But If you’d like I can tell you about them…both the resume information and the things that Rangeman found in their background checks. We talk it through, make a decision tonight and I can send out the offer letters tomorrow.”

“They’ve been vetted…any of them give you skeevy feelings?” Noah asked him cautiously.

Ben shook his head. “Grant talked to them all too and he said that he got decent human being vibes off of them too. For the most part.”

I watched the three of them exchange a glance but Sam nodded. “G-on ahead then.” 

Ben got his thoughtful look on again. Haja leaned over and whispered, “Why is it when he starts thinking hard, I start praying for lost souls?”

Darcy answered him with a wicked smile. “Because he looks like the very personification of ‘an angry god’ and we’re all just the sinners in his hands.”

That literary reference made all three of us giggle. Ben either didn’t hear us or he ignored us as he continued telling us all about the best five applicants. “The first option is Emely Pampolini. Twenty-Five years old, MPA from UGA, but a native of the Carroll Gardens area of Brooklyn. Her grades were good, not great. She did not spent her summers interning like someone you would expect of anyone who really wanted to get a job in that degree field. That’s all I gleaned from her resume. Her Rangeman background check revealed that she is starting to sink and drown in student loan and credit card debt. She lives far above her means. But she probably learned that from her parents. They own a neighborhood bar and grill that is always on the brink of bankruptcy. She has a history of being well…I guess the nicest way to put it is to say that not only does she look a lot like her, Ms. Pampolini’s personality is that of Cordelia Chase from the first season of Buffy, but her budget is that of Cordelia from the first season of Angel.”

“Oh no…no, no, no, no.” Puck interjected. “We can deal with broke. I’ve been broke and so has Sam. We can deal with a bitch. We know Santana Lopez. But a broke bitch…that’s just asking for trouble.”

Mercedes shook her head. “Um, I’m more worried about the fact that she’s probably going to be looking to move on up before she can even learn every body’s names.”

“Still,” Sam played the voice of reason. “We don’t know what the other people are like. We shouldn’t reject any one of them until we know all our options.”

MeDe and Noah looked like they wanted to argue the point but couldn’t, so Ben continued. “Okay then, next up, is Kenneth Nguyen. Nguyen is another who looks great on paper. Thirty-four, parents are Chinese-American and African-American. Grew up in Queens. BS from WGU online in business management. His grades were almost stellar. He is looking for a job now though he’s already started taking classes for the MBA program at the same online school. Like I said he looks good on paper. However, Rangeman’s check…he’s got money troubles in the form of five kids, a seriously angry ex-wife and way more back child support than he can really afford to pay on the income we’re offering. So, like Ms. Pampolini, he’ll probably be looking to move up and possibly on as soon as he finishes the second degree. However, neither of those are real reasons not to hire him as the simple truth is that the status of his finances is not really our problem and the MBA could take him up to two or three years if he ever does complete it.”

“That’s very true.” MeDe said quietly.

Ben smiled. “The background checks are a blessing and a curse. We end up knowing things that most employers cannot know when they are interviewing. Furthermore, some of them are things they cannot allow to interfere in their decision.”

“Okay, message received.” Puck said with a sigh. “We can’t let the fact that the douche canoe is a dead beat dad get into our heads. Who’s next?”

“The next candidate is an interesting person. He plays guitar and bass. He’s from Detroit. He has a very spotty employment history as he spent four years gigging through the Chicago rock scene. Jackson…Jackie…Mercer. He told me that he only got his AA online from Purdue because he was stuck in the hospital and a rehabilitation center since shortly before Christmas. Still, he managed to earn a two year degree in eight months, so we know he isn’t stupid. The kid had one hell of a background check. He has gotten into more bar brawls than a little bit but Trigger wouldn’t give me all the information they found. Laura told me that Hal and a couple of the Midwest Rangemen made a field trip to Detroit to pay a visit to one of the foster homes he was in as a kid…the last one before he ended up with the foster mother that eventually adopted him. He was the youngest of four boys she adopted. She made sure that all four boys finished high school.”

“So if his history is so spotty, why’s he still in the running.” I asked the HR director. I knew him. He’d thrown out other decent candidates for less of a reason.

“I like the kid. He has heart. Brantley…remember the guy that they said you had to deal with to plan an after party in Detroit…the one that disappeared.”

“Yeah, Victor Sweet. I mainly remember because I thought that was a punk ass name for a gangster.” Brantley shook his head.

“Yeah, apparently from what wasn’t said by Jackson and by Trigger…we have the Mercer brothers to thank for now having to deal with Don Juan Gotti. Sweet was behind the murder of Ms. Mercer and the reason Jackson was in the hospital. The Mercer Boys had looked into their mom’s death and drew the gangster’s attention onto themselves. The Sweet dude was almost untouchable because he had a crooked cop on his payroll. From what I can glean, that was probably why the police didn’t look too hard into Ms. Mercer’s murder. Fortunately, Jackson’s brothers they didn’t let that stop them from strongly expressing to that asshole exactly how much he had fucked up by killing their mother and hurting their baby brother.” I was wrong before. Ben’s thoughtful look was only barely frightening. His smile as he was contemplating what the four Mercer brothers had done to the villain of their story almost made me pee myself. Thankfully, it wasn’t actually aimed at me or I might have.

Sam nodded. “It might not be legal…it might not even be right. But that guy’s at the top of my list for the job. Because I totally would have done the same thing.”

“Most of us at this table would have done the same thing.” Darcy chuckled.

“I want to hire him because I’m sure that his mother will rest more peacefully if he has a soft place to land.” MeDe said honestly.

Puck raised a different point entirely. “I say we go with him because if he’s even a decent player, he can practice with us from time to time and it would give us a backup guitarist, JiC, ya know. Then, when Artie dips to go handle Tana’s shit, we can get a new receptionist and this Mercer Cat can step in to the band.”

Ben smirked. “I must say, no offense Noah, but I’m a little ashamed that I didn’t think of that. One of his references is a former band member, Reece Webber…Mercer used to gig with his thrash metal band, Intruder, right after high school. The reference was pretty glowing. It really had nothing to do with the position he’s applying for other than saying that the kid had some serious determination to learn his craft. But Webber couldn’t stop talking about Mercer’s skill with his axe.”

“Alright, that’s one done then. Hopefully one of the other two remaining will be cool and can fit in that second seat at the main counter.” Sam told Ben. He was right to bring things back to order. The others would be there soon.

“The next person is Tamelia Layne, goes just by Layne. Layne is thirty. She’s got a GED and has been working front desks at a string of non-profits since she left high school. She’s personable and knows more phone systems than I knew existed. But to be honest, she’s not…well, I think that she might need more than a little hand holding. Her background check came back fine. She has some debt, but not a lot, mainly a mortgage on a tiny little house in Bloomfield.” He summarized quickly. “To be honest, her biggest selling point is that I think she will get the job and stay there happily for as long as we want her to.” I had actually met that lady. She was nice with kind eyes. But she seemed even quieter than I had been when I started. I pointed that fact out. “That is something of a concern.” Ben admitted.

“Okay, so the boring lady would stay forever…who is the last candidate?” Noah rushed us along.

“The last candidate is the eldest. Corrina Jackson-Buchanan is forty-four. She’s got a degree from Brown University, but she has no work history at all. Well, not a traditional one. She was a wife and stay at home mother for the last twenty years. I will say that she didn’t have a negative thing to say about her ex-husband…but Rangeman’s background check said all I needed to know about her lack of traditional work history. Hubby is from an affluent New York family. It was enough of a scandal when he married a black woman, who insisted on hyphenating her name. His family made sure that she wouldn’t work outside the home other than the acceptable, allowable volunteer type work that advanced his career. Pretty much as soon as their twin sons left for college, Hubby left for a twenty year old Instagram model named Passion Jones.”

“Let me guess, she’s blonde with blue eyes.” Haja was giving the man one hell of a side eye, even though dude wasn’t there and Haja had never met him.

Darcy had the new chick’s pic up on her phone in a heartbeat. “Nope. She does have blue eyes, in some pictures, but he’s still a choco-holic. But I think, let me guess. The ex, his parents have both passed away?”

Ben looked on his iPhone. “Father died in twenty-twelve. Mother diagnosed with dementia about six months before he left Corrina.”

Darcy showed the IG feed of the new chick. She was definitely black. But she was nothing at all like any of us had imagined. “I think he’s always liked Black women, but back in the day, he brought home to his parents one that wouldn’t get his ass disowned. With his parents out of the picture, he was finally free to find his dream chick.” All of us couldn’t help but make the comparison to our Thick boss. Passion Jones was fairly short, and quite a bit heavier than MeDe. She was an intriguing looking, THICK girl with huge breasts and thick thighs. It was very clear that she loved her body. Because she showed it all the way off. That wasn’t to say that she posted nudes, I didn’t see any of those, but she definitely didn’t mind showing her breasts off. Not that I was shaming her for that. If anything, I was jealous of her confidence. Even though Darcy kept telling me that I had a body that was considered by society at large to be almost perfect, I was not comfortable showing it off at all.

Of course, one of the inquiring minds that were among us decided to look up our prospective receptionist’s online presence as well. The phone was passed around. “Wow…okay Sexy Mama, you know that I love you and would never disrespect you…but DAMN. Ms. Jackson-Buchanan is one fine ass MILF.” Puck’s honest reaction was very amusing.

But not quite as amusing as his wife’s. “It’s the truth though.” MeDe said staring at her elder cousin’s phone screen. When the phone came my way, I couldn’t help but note that while Ms. Jackson-Buchanan was taller and thinner, she was almost as blessed in the chest department as Passion Jones. “Shit, I’m very much hetero and I’m wondering why he left her for the younger chick my damn self.”

“Definitely a lateral move at best.” Amanda agreed as she looked. “Ben, did you say she was forty-four?” when the HR director nodded, she gave everyone a wry smile. “Well, I know that I don’t really get a vote, but you guys really might be her only chance. At her age, trying to reenter the work force, over educated for most entry level positions and a woman of color on top of all of that…”

Sam looked to Ben for confirmation. “Is that true?”

He nodded. “Even if she was twenty-two and fresh out of college she’d be over-qualified for this job. She has a master’s degree in business and entrepreneurship. She’s probably applying for this because she’s been turned down for the jobs her degree should net her because of her lack of work history. And what Amanda didn’t say is that even if she does get hired somewhere else, she could very well be earning less than a White male with less degrees for the same job.”

“That sucks ass.” Noah said succinctly. “So, I say we hire her and let’s hire Mercer. We’ll start her at two grand a year more per higher degree but encourage her to stay for at least two years.”

Amanda shared a smile with her nephew. “Honestly, she’ll stay for three to five years. She’s a little older than me, but she would be of the same school of thought. We were taught that three to five years established loyalty and loyalty engenders loyalty.”

“By the time she’s been with us for two years, we’ll know where her gifts and talents lie, and we’ll move her up accordingly.” MeDe said firmly. “If we can find her something she loves and pay her what she is worth, we won’t just get the appearance of her loyalty, we’ll have earned the truth of her loyalty.”

“So then, we’re all in agreement, Mercer and Jackson-Buchanan?” Sam asked the entire executive Team.

We all agreed. Though Haja raised the last topic any one would have expected to come from his mouth. “Can we make a cleavage rule for the office receptionist position? Because, seriously, her chest spilling out of her shirt would make all bargaining with any even half-way straight men or curious women go so much easier.”

“Only if Mercer has a congruous caveat.” Ben spoke dryly. “Otherwise, that would be the very definition of sexual harassment. I’ll shoot Hudson the offer letters for your approval first thing in the morning. Once you’ve approved them, I’ll have them couriered out to our new receptionists.”

That wrapped up the Team Meeting. Just in time too…the rest of the Crew and Staff had arrived.

 

Find Ya Wealth (Nas)  
Brigid PoV

There were a lot of assumptions people made when they saw me. I knew that. I actually relied upon it. I had started dressing in all black at first when I was in middle school. It started as a way to differentiate myself from all the other blondes in my small midwestern town. I’d grown up in New Ulm, Minnesota. The only things my hometown had was a metric ton of blondes and the possibility of being the real-world inspiration for the fictional town of St. Olaf. At least that was the way it seemed to me at the time. But what had originally began as a quick and easy way to be different soon became a vital part of myself. As I moved from middle to high school, I got deeper and deeper into the Goth scene. I started listening to the music learning more and more about Punk and the Goth scenes of the eighties and nineties. And my mother, a widow and the only single mother in the whole town completely embraced my changes. She encouraged me to listen to all music…Everything from Siouxsie and the Banshees and The Cure to NWA, Biggie and Tupac. She instilled in me a love of true lyricists like Nas and Dylan and Lennon and Cobain…and even Eminem. Mom had gone to college in Minneapolis, and lived in Florida for over a decade, so she had a far broader view of life than most of the people in our small town. We were different and we loved being so.

Iphigenia Michaelson had been a world class mother. I had been a late life baby and both of my parents had all but given up hope of having children at all by the time I came along. I was beloved and probably a little spoiled. When I was three, my father had been killed in a mass shooting on Fort Lauderdale Beach. It was an ultimate example of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. He had gone for a run when some nut job decided to kill his former co-workers after he’d been fired. The gunman hadn’t even been aiming at my father. Alistair Michaelson had been killed by a stray bullet to his head. My mom said the police said that he wouldn’t have felt any pain. Growing up I remember thinking that that was the worst ‘comfort’ people ever offered to grieving relatives. But after Mom’s death, I found myself wishing that she had known a painless passing. VTEs, venous thromboembolisms, are unfortunately pretty common and they can be a painful way to die. Mom had horrible pains in her legs and then her chest before she would go to the hospital and before we could even get her in front of a doctor, she was gone. I was seventeen.

I finished high school easily enough even in that haze of grief and anger. But as soon as I was eighteen, I sold the house where I’d been raised, took that money, the money from my mother’s life insurance and all that was left over from my fathers and I moved to New York. Mom had moved us to the small town where she grew up after Dad was murdered thinking that it would be safer. Her death convinced me that death didn’t give a fuck where you were…when it wanted to claim you, it would. After Mom’s funeral, I dyed my hair jet black for the first time. It had been a dozen different colors over my high school years, but always something that my mother approved of, so mostly natural shades and blues. Blue had been her favorite color, every shade. When I got to New York, I’d not had much of a plan. But I was smart and I had had more than enough money to give me a cushion even in the most expensive city in the nation. I’d gotten an apartment in an area of Brooklyn near the places Jay-Z and Biggie had spoken of in their music. I took a retail day job at a gothic clothing store a chick on the subway told me about. Trash and Vaudeville was basically one of the Gotham must stops. At the time, for me, it was just a job that would allow me something to do every day rather than wallowing in my grief. But I think it really saved me.

The people there wouldn’t let me stagnate. They convinced me to take night classes at St. Joseph’s College. When I turned twenty-one, they threw me a huge fete. Then when I earned my associate’s degree, they threw me an even bigger one. One day though, my boss came to me with an email. Luna had found an advertisement for a receptionist in an office that her best friend, a guy who was interning at Warner Records, told her would be perfect for me. Luna didn’t want me to spend the rest of my life working retail when she, and to be honest I, knew I was meant for more than that. Not that there was anything wrong with those who chose to live their lives helping others in that matter…but while I loved my job…I couldn’t work retail anywhere that snarkiness wasn’t an expected service trait. Luna had put together a resume and submitted it for the position in my name. The email was an offer for an interview.

I wasn’t even sure that I wanted to change my life. I did know, however, that if I got a job offer, it would be the real me, not a Barbified, knockoff version. I put together a special outfit for the interview, a Tripp NYC black tutu mini skirt, a pair of black, side lace leggings, and a black, Victorian Maiden, corruption gauze lace blouse that I had gotten from Tokyo Rebel. My hair was jet black and pulled up into a bun, the only color in my entire ensemble were the two ‘Rogue’ streaks that had been dyed a great shade of Persian blue. I hadn’t worn boots, it was a job interview after all. Instead I’d worn a great pair of black, flower patchwork, platform pumps with a chunky heel. Even though the interview had gone really well, and I’d found myself wanting the position, I’d been more than a little shocked when I found out I had landed a second interview. I mean, I hadn’t even taken out my septum ring. For the second interview, I’d kept my hair the same for two reasons. The first was to have Mom with me in the blue streaks and the second because it was too soon to redye it without damage. But other than my hair, I tried to dress a little more appropriately. I went to Macys…oh the horrors…and found a pair of black, pull on slacks with silver studs accents at the waist. I wore another shirt from TR, but that one was at least white, even if it was still of a certain style. The Metamorphose, stand collar, bishop sleeve blouse looked like it should have a staring role on the cover of a bodice ripper about a librarian, but I loved it. I still wanted to look like me after all.

The second interview went even better than the first and when I got the job offer, I wasn’t surprised…I was just elated. I quickly discovered that I really liked Mercedes, Sam and Puck. I got along really well with Grant and Cleotha and I made a true friend in Yasmine. None of them expected me to change who I was or how I dressed for them. At one point Haja asked me why I bothered taking my piercings out before work on Monday. “Girl this is the music industry. You’re actually probably the most stereotypical looking music person in this office. Be you.” So I did just that. That next day I rolled in with all seven earrings in both ears, my septum ring, my third eye stud, both my eyebrow hoops and my snake bite hoops too. It felt so good.

I enjoyed my job, which was often more than just answering the phones. I was Darcy’s second in command when it came to the FRTs. I helped Grant manage the guests when Haja, Ethan or Daniel had meetings. Then in the evenings, I went and helped out at T&V for a few hours…hanging out with my friends maintained my twenty percent discount and gave me even more spending money. Shortly after the Valentine’s dinner concert, I realized that I hadn’t needed to touch the remains of my nest egg in seven months. The last thing I’d used my nest egg for was to get some office appropriate clothes to sprinkle among my regular day wear. No matter what Haja said, my club gear had no place in an office…not even one of a music group. Navy and black and white with hints of silver, shoes that didn’t add six to eight inches of height to my build…things like that. The first three years I’d lived in New York, the money that my parents had left me had paid my rent and utilities while my slightly above minimum wage job had bought my food and paid for my lifestyle and entertainment. Though even fully Gothed out with a plethora of piercings, I was still considered hot so I could almost always find guys to buy me dinner in places I couldn’t have afforded to take myself or drinks at the club de jour. I was pretty sure that I truly understood for the very first time the special kind of independence Mom had enjoyed when raising me. It gave me another connection to her.

I was actually thinking about that the morning that KAMA’s Executive Team called me in to talk to me. “Brigid, thanks for taking a second to talk to us.” Haja said with a smile. He had a great smile…it lit up his whole face and transformed him into a more universal sort of handsomeness.

I gave a smile back. “No problem, Grant said that he would catch the phones for me.”

“It shouldn’t take long. We just wanted to let you know that there are going to be some changes over the next week or two.” Ethan said with a small smile. “But first, are you ready for this weekend?”

I nodded. “Yup, got a couple of new swim suits, first ones I’ve owned in years, honestly. And I got the strongest sunscreen available in Japan.”

“Wait, why Japan?” Darcy asked confused.

I laughed. “Oh, just because I got it at Tokyo Rebel. It’s a great store that sells Goth and Lolita and Japanese street gear. Best of all, I have a girlfriend who works there and we do a discount exchange. She lets me use her discount at TR and I let her us mine at T&V. It works. SO…what changes?”

Haja looked amused at my babble and subject change. “Well, the first change is that Yasmine has just received a promotion. She’s now a part of the Executive Team…sort of. As of Monday morning she will officially be the new Event Planner for KAMA and Commune. That means that we now have an opening for an Administrative Assistant for the Management Team. We’d like to offer you that position.”

“Wow, really?” was all I managed to say. I was shocked. The whole meeting had come out of nowhere, so I hadn’t really been expecting anything good…or bad…it was that much of a surprise.

“Yes, really. The new title comes with a six thousand dollar a year raise as well as an extra forty hours a year of PTO.” Ethan stated efficiently. “Other than that, it is somewhat of a lateral move. You will have additional responsibilities, but your hours will remain the same. Yazz will, of course, see to your training. And we will need you to train the new receptionists.”

“Of course. Thank you for this opportunity.” I finally found my words. A raise and the additional time off took me up to two full weeks of PTO time…which was great. I hadn’t had any when I worked retail. I walked out of that office elated. So much so that when it was time to head home and get dressed for the employee dinner, I couldn’t resist going by Trash and Vaudeville to share my good news. “Guess what Bitches,” heralded my arrival into the somewhat packed store. “I just got boosted up the Ladder!” I said excitedly.

“Gel, stop…you got a promotion. You’ve only been there a year.” Luna said happily. Luna Maximina, not her real name of course, she let no one know the name her parents had saddle her with. She was a beautiful black woman just a few years younger than Haja. She’d been fully gothic since the late eighties and loved the culture and lifestyle though she was quick to point out that the Victorian Era would not have worked for her at all. Despite her dark chocolate skin, she rocked electric blue or neon green contacts like a boss. She was a proud bisexual and she loved helping ‘women and men develop their sexuality’. ‘No matter how bad some one is in bed, they can improve if they are just willing to listen and they have the right teacher.’ I kind of wanted to introduce her to Ruth Mayzer, I’d just never found a right way to do so.

“Yup, more money, more vaca time and a shiny new title.” I bragged a little.

“Oohh, girl, you should so celebrate. Just got in a hot new halterneck vest dress that goes really well with all our blouses. But if you’re feeling daring, you can go with just a bandeau under it. Any way it has Lacing attached to the front and rear in four places of the skirt. When you pull up the fabric on the lacing, it becomes a gorgeous design like a bustle skirt.” Luna dragged me to the back of the store.

“Oh, that’s hot.” I murmured. I knew I probably shouldn’t, but I just had to. My current hair color was perfect shade of burgundy to go with the dress…like it was a sign. I already had a great pair of heels and some accessories that would definitely work. Of course, I got the dress. I already had a perfect fishnet bandeau top. So, I raced home, showered and blessed the fact that I’d spent the previous Saturday morning getting everything waxed in preparation for my trip to Puerto Rico. The dress was not a long dress stopping at my knees. I tied up the lacings on the skirt on both sides at the front but left the back down. I liked the way that showed off the black underskirts and I added an extra wine-colored petticoat to give the dress a little more volume and to give me a little extra coverage since I was feeling really daring and went completely sans undies. Still I was feeling naughty…I hadn’t lost my mind, so I took a Lyft to the restaurant rather than taking the train.

We were all told to arrive at seven and there were a few of the Staff and Crew waiting outside when I got there. We talked while the Team and KAMA met. Erika and Cassidy were on a serious mission. They got me, Bautista, Patrick and the new dancer chick, Joaquina, along with her cousin Blaine and his boyfriend Kurt to go out with them after dinner. I didn’t really know Bautista or Patrick all that well and Joaquina was new but I loved hanging out with Erika and Cass and messing with Kurt’s poor fashionista heart so it wasn’t a hard sell. The restaurant staff let us in just a couple of minutes after the seven o’clock hour and we all took seats around the dining room. Of course, Xena had been early. I wasn’t surprised that Sugar Motta was one of the last of the Crew to show up. Apparently, she was one of those people who didn’t believe that anything started before she got there. Dinner was certainly an interesting meal that night. I’d never had Chinese ‘dry pot’ before. It was delicious. Hard to put into words, but from the first bite to the last, it was all so very delicious.

After the appetizer course, Mercedes, Sam and Puck stood up and got all our attention. “Everybody, thanks for schlepping across town on a Thursday night. We really just wanted to meet with all of our peoples since we’re back in the city full time, for the most part. The tour had gone great so far. The reviews in almost every city were fucking stellar. While there was some controversy in the papers, there wasn’t any backstage drama. I’m sure that everyone has heard about the bullshit that almost went down in Texas. Still, the Rangemen were complete badasses and saved the girl, so all in all, it wasn’t a horrible stop.” Puck began.

Sam took over from him without missing a beat. “Right, so we want to thank all of you, those who were with us on the road and those of you who held things down here at home. I know that we definitely appreciate that when Haja needed you guys in the office support that all of you had his back so he could be where he needed to be and his focus could be on, his boyfriend, Cal and his recovery, as it needed to be.”

“We also appreciate that you all kept everything rolling smooth as silk while Brantley and Darcy were on the road and over that week when the entire Team was in LA with us. It makes it so much easier when we’re touring to know that you all are holding us down and keeping shop here.” Mercedes finished their speech off.

It was at times like that, I couldn’t help but think that those three were such a cohesive unit, they must have been amazing together in those lonely hours. It may have been wrong, but I loved imagining them together. It struck me as really hot. Not long after arriving in New York, I’d discovered that I was a serious voyeur. I loved going to the parks near my apartment and watching young lovers make out. I couldn’t afford the types of places where I could go and see a real show, but there were always shops that specialized in adult goods where I could slip the gate keeper a ten and be able to watch the lovers in the video rooms. Out of solidarity and loyalty, I hadn’t even peaked at those pictures that had caused them so much pain in January. But the truth was that I would have paid my entire raise to be able to watch my bosses engaging with each other. I was sure that it would be, not only erotic, but actively beautiful.

I was pulled back out of my trip down salacious lane by Darcy putting an envelope in front of me. I looked around and noticed that she and Hudson were giving everyone similar envelopes. This one was smaller than the envelopes we’d gotten at Christmas. And yet, when I opened it, my mouth dropped open in pure shock. Fortunately that look of shock was mirrored on every face in the room…except, Sam, Mercedes and Puck’s. All three of them looked like my mother used to look on Christmas morning or on my birthday when I was opening a special gift and she desperately wanted me to like it. Liked it. It was a ‘Post Tour Bonus’ check stub with all the necessary withholdings already taken out. Even after FICA and Uncle Sam got their cut, I was still left with more than my actual yearly salary.

“What the fuck, guys, don’t y’all know how to keep your money for your damn selves.” Damien blurted out.

Adam slapped his hand over his brother’s mouth. “What my idiot brother meant to say first was… Thank you very much. Followed by ‘What the fuck? Don’t you people know how to keep your money for your selves?”

Gwen Abrams just laughed. “If you saw how much they gave to charity last quarter alone, you’d think they really didn’t understand the concept at all.”

“And yet, even after the bonuses, the giving and the reinvestments in our brand and company, we’re still clearing over eighty million dollars in pure profit.” Puck shot back, “So, I think we’re doing alright.”

“Actually, Ummm, that’s not exactly accurate. It’s closer to eighty-five. Remember part of the money for the show bonuses come from Warner.” Mercedes pointed out.

“Oh yeah…those of you actively a part of the tour still have those coming, but not until later on after the last date.” Sam told the room at large. There wasn’t a single soul in the room that didn’t look deliriously happy. Even those like me and Grant and Cleotha who wouldn’t get anything further were all ecstatic. We hadn’t expected to get any kind of tour bonus. Let alone a multiple figure one.

I leaned over and asked Yazz quietly, “Umm…is this for real?”

She looked back at me and giggled hysterically. “Girl, I was just about to ask you that. What on earth am I supposed to do with this kind of money?”

Cleotha laughed. “I’m gonna pay like five years off of my mortgage” He was sitting across the table from us. Apparently, we weren’t as quiet as we though. “Mr. Mayzer helped me get a great rate on a fifteen-year deal, and I am going to have that baby paid down in ten once I drop this bad boy on it.”

Yazz looked thoughtful. “This would pay off the rest of my student loans and I could go back and get certified as an event planner. Then…maybe I could work it like Haja and the others and have outside clients as well.”

With those words I knew exactly what I was going to do. The only regret I had in how I lived my life was knowing that my mom and dad would have made sure that I went to college. If either of them, let alone both, had lived, I’d have had a bachelor’s degree under my belt and may have been working towards a master’s degree or even a doctorate. I was smart, and I had enjoyed school. I’d wanted to become a doctor once upon a time. That career path no longer held any allure for me, but I knew that it would mean the world to my parents for me to complete a BA or BS program…no matter which side of the veil they were on. I was going to use the unexpected gift of the money to pay for my continuing education. It was a great why to honor my parents’ memory and the dedication and hard work of my bosses as well.

The rest of the dinner was spent talking matters of the rest of the year, the remaining tour dates and Yazz and my promotions were announced and congratulated. We learned that, in addition to the video that would be filmed in Barbados, there was a second video that was scheduled to start production soon. KAMA said that they wouldn’t be recording an album that year, though they would be doing some songs for certain other projects, like a couple of commercials and movie soundtracks. We learned that Darcy was starting a special project and she had hired someone who would be in the office for training and to get the project up and running but there after she would work from home. We also learned that those of us going to Puerto Rico would get to meet her and her husband, KAMA’s new personal trainer, over the weekend. Personally, I wanted to know what a tech head and a gym rat looked like together. It had always been my experience that those two types of people tended to be mutually exclusive.

Over dessert, Mr. Zizes announced that we’d be starting a charitable giving match program so that we could give to certain charities and have our gifts matched doubling our impact. I liked that thought. I gave to Americans for Responsible Solutions and Everytown for Gun Safety on my father’s birth day and the day he was killed. I also gave to the Chest and APS foundations on my mother’s special days. It wasn’t a lot, just what I’d have spent on their gifts, I liked to think that maybe my little hundred or two hundred dollars a couple of times a year might help someone not have to lose their loved ones so soon. I smiled to myself. My life may not have been what I thought it would be when I was seventeen…it may have not have been what I thought it would be when I was nineteen…but it was even better because I finally had direction. I finally had a place in the world again. My life may have been different, but it was sure as hell mine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the posting Delay.  
> Life Happens...and I kind of think it hates me.   
> Give me some happy...drop a comment. Let me know what you think.
> 
> And ALL AMERICANS reading this...you should be over 18. SO on NOVEMBER 6th, GO VOTE!!!!!!  
> Take others to go vote. Get Out The VOTE!!!!  
> TTFN,   
> Anni


	5. A Thousand Miles (Vanessa Carlton) & I’ll Go Crazy (The Temptations)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ****THANKS to everyone who has taken the time to review! Your encouragement helps more than you know!****  
> Thank all of you for being avid readers & reviewers of my stories:  
> I appreciate all of you.
> 
> Boredom Busting Fic Reread Rec  
> A Sirius Matter by witowsmp (HP Fic)
> 
>  
> 
> DaughterofDarkness87 Thank you for always being such a big help. You have become a fundamental part of this world.

A Thousand Miles (Vanessa Carlton)  
Daniel PoV

A year after leaving Seattle for Manhattan, I could honestly say that there was nothing at all I regretted about changing my world on a dime to help my little cousin out. Not a single solitary thing. I still kept in contact with my friends at my old firm. Hell, Charlie was working hard to convince me to set up my own office space and take him on as a partner. I understood why. I was kind of living his dream. He’d always been interested in celebrity PR but had taken the job that was guaranteed to pay off his student loans the fastest. It was something I was considering, but to be honest, I didn’t think I was ready for that. At least I had been sure that I wasn’t ready, until the trip to Puerto Rico.

On the flight to the island, Riker and I ended up in first class with Ain’t Got No Mercy and her husbands and their bodyguards Ranger and Stephanie Plum. The trip was a perk of the job, but the upgraded seats were the trio’s going away gift to Riker. At one point, I had a very enlightening conversation with Stephanie, who was a truly interesting woman, turned out to be a very interesting conversationalist. She wasn’t very much older than I was and yet, she had experienced so much more than I had. She’d already been married, divorced, and escaped an emotionally abusive relationship. She’d had two different careers and was currently combining the skills from both, very successfully. According to her, she was happier than she’d ever thought possible with a man that her upbringing insisted was all wrong for her, with a career that she had been raised to believe was outside her abilities and those of anyone of her gender. I was pretty sure that, given how much they had in common, Stephanie and Riker were destined to be besties. But when Riker had gone to the restroom, Stephanie turned to me to conversate. “So, good work on the whole Valentine-donut stupidity. She managed to come out of that just fine. That took talent.”

“Thanks. It wasn’t really all that hard. Fortunately, she’s just a young kid who was surrounded by the wrong people.” I replied honestly.

Stephanie nodded. “Still, you were able to identify the problem and resolve it. That’s not always an easy thing to accomplish. And don’t forget, you managed to get your cousin and her boys through two major scandals smelling like roses. Ranger said that you could make a killing if you took on more clients.”

I thanked her for the compliment, but honestly said, “maybe so, but I don’t think I’m ready for that.”

She laughed. “We never think we’re ready. I sure as hell wasn’t ready when I started bounty hunting. I did what I needed to do. I think you’re at a great time to make a big step. I mean, you’re going to need to do something to keep yourself occupied while Riker is making this huge leap forward. When Ranger’s in the wind…my boredom and worry combine and usually end up causing me trouble.”

That was true but…”I had hoped to keep my schedule flexible so that I would be able to visit her as much as possible.” I didn’t have to ask her what ‘in the wind’ meant, I assumed it was their euphemism for his being out of pocket on the job.

“See, that’s the best part…your job can be done from anywhere…unless you absolutely have to be in front of people. You can work your magic while visiting your fiancée, gorgeous ring by the way, and when you’re in the city during the week days, that’s when you work on setting yourself up to create a bigger presence. You already have the talent to make this work, you just need to do it.”

After she planted that seed in my head, Riker came back and I was forgotten as they returned to their discussion of their most obnoxious cases. Though they came at things from two different directions, they were both women in the very much male dominated field of law enforcement. They had a ton to talk about. And Stephanie Plum had left me with a ton to think about.

Puerto Rico was a pleasant way to spend our last few days together before Riker and her best friend and partner had to report to FLETC to begin their FBI training. Hudson had arranged outings for those members of the extended entourage who weren’t an active part of the concert, but Riker and I just wanted some time to be alone. She and I spent the whole weekend alone together. We played on the beach, explored San Juan and made love in a hotel room with a beautiful view. Even though we were enjoying our little break from reality, I couldn’t not talk to Riker about my conversation with Stephanie Plum. Riker was my fiancée not just because she was amazing in bed but because she was my best friend, confidant, cheerleader and biggest supporter other than my father.

I laid everything out and she, in her inimitable way ground it all to three salient and insightful questions. “Okay, so first things first, are you worried that you won’t be able to cultivate a large enough workflow and client pool to maintain a separate business?”

I thought about that one for a second. I knew the answer was yes, but in answering her I made a startling realization. “I am, but even I know that I probably shouldn’t be. I’ve had enough work for two or three people for the last three or four months and I’ve started having to turn people down. Most celebrity publicists have three to four major clients that they dedicate their time to. I consider myself a PR manager or analyst which is different, but almost more time consuming because often a publicist is a go between for a star and an entire marketing team. KAMA’s marketing team is me and Darcy. In addition to No Mercy and her guys, I have four other up and coming celebrity clients and all the consulting work Revolution is still tossing at me. Hell, I billed them over four grand last week alone. Add to that, Jesse St. James is still sending half of Broadway to me every other week. Even if they don’t or can’t afford to choose me, I’m still spending two hours every other day meeting with them. I’ve only managed to keep everything so together because I have Grant and he is the most organized human being on earth.”

She nodded. We both knew that to be a fact not an exaggeration. “Alright, if you have the work load to support a staff, are you concerned that you can’t afford to get everything up and running?” I just shot her a side eye. She knew that I was arguing with No Mercy about how much they had paid me for my part in their tour promotions and everything. I was literally making more for a half year of work than some people earned in their entire life times. “So, then, is the real problem that you think this will pull your focus from Mercedes and her guys?”

I knew she was ‘bottom of the ocean’ deep, but damn. There it was, the very heart of the matter. “Damn, that’s it exactly. I don’t want to lose the ability to be right there when Haja needs me. You know me, Rike. Whether she knew it or not, I’ve been protecting No Mercy since before she could talk. I don’t know if it’s because I’m named after her mother or because I grew up so tight with Ethan and he loves her like she was his own. But no matter what the reason, the desire to shelter her from the world is almost as strong as how I feel about Mellie…How do I step back from making sure that she’s taken care of, especially after how good the choices we’ve made to allow me to do that have turned out?”

Riker pulled me close. “You know good and well that your little cousin appreciates all that you’ve done for her. Especially since she feels dumb as hell for not realizing how much trouble you went to for her when she was little.” I smiled. No Mercy had definitely tried her best to show how sorry she was for not understanding things better in her youth. But I had come to realize that she’d been little and the Harris side of the family had never been as welcoming to her as it had been to her brothers. Even my own father had been too wrapped up in himself and me to step in like he should have. He felt horrible about it all these years later, but I couldn’t really blame her for the fact that I’d just gotten painted with the brush the rest of the family had handed her. I said as much to Riker and she just nodded. “Thankfully, Mercedes tends not to hold grudges. Because Bryant knows that I think he, more than anyone, had the responsibility to stop your Aunt Arielle’s bullshit a long damn time ago. Even if he is younger than her, as the oldest male, that was his job.”

I had to smile. I still remember the dressing down she had given him after the first reunion No Mercy had brought Sam and Noah to with her. Riker had been in the room when Dani had lost her temper on the whole family. After my favorite aunt had stormed out, Riker had enthusiastically applauded the rant. “I know.”

“Anyway, back on subject…what would you need to make this work for you, ideally?”

That I had to think about. I didn’t even give her an answer to her final question until the flight back. “So, ideal, a space in the same building so I could be close at hand. Two other PR analysts of my caliber.”

“Wait, so you’d want partners not subordinates?” she challenged.

“Partners for at least the first two or three years. Otherwise I’d have more work not less. I’d need to handle all my clients and oversee their handling of their clients too.”

“Okay, that makes sense…what else?” She prodded.

I laughed. “Security, a setup like we currently have. It’s a huge draw for all of us that our clients can come in for a meeting and not have to worry about paps or photogs. When Cat comes in, she barely wants to leave. Oh, and Haja to decorate it so it looks as posh and epic as the space I’m currently in.”

Riker laughed at me. But we both knew that in my industry, image was everything and neither of us had the kind of talent that Dom, Haja and Kurt did. “So, in your dream, who would you want for partners?”

“I’d get Charlie’s ass out here…and possibly Dad…but we both know that he wouldn’t be a full time in the office kind of person.” I answered then just continued my thoughts. “I’d need a full time office manager and we’d each need an assistant. Oh and an accountant if we were going to do everything right.”

“Sounds like you’ve given this some thought.” She said pointedly. “I’m not telling you yea or nay. I’m just saying, you’re going to have a lot of time on your hands to figure everything out.”

I hated that she realized that I desperately wanted her permission…or at least her determination of if I would be successful. I hated even more that she wouldn’t give either and I understood why. I’d supported her decision to go into the FBI…but I hadn’t made the decision for her. It wasn’t my place. Just like this decision wasn’t hers. But I also knew that I had her full support, no matter what I decided. I knew that I had plenty of time to think about it. I decided to put it from my mind for the time being. I hoped that something would happen to let me know what the best thing to do actually was.

Despite some heavy thoughts raised on the flights to and from the island, I came back that Sunday, refreshed and as ready as possible to say good bye to the woman I loved for just over ninety days. I took Riker, and her parents, Chris, Dom and Grant and his girlfriend out to dinner at Riker and Chris’s favorite local restaurant. Ruth’s Chris Steak House was totally not a local joint, but we felt it counted because it didn’t include a drive into the city. Besides it was the perfect place for the eight of us. Dancing Wolf, Chris, Riker, Grant and I didn’t have to get actively dressed up, but Chareesma, Gina and Dom didn’t look out of place if they did. For a going away dinner, not only did the three of them get at least a little decked out…they managed to get Riker to dress up too. Granted, I was almost positive it was because my beloved badass wanted a chance to show off the pretty little halter dress she’d found while we were exploring in San Juan. 

Dancing Wolf and Chareesma had met us at the airport to allow them to spend as much time as possible with Riker before she and Chris flew out the next morning. That meant that we had a fabulous lunch, just the four of us. Then I helped Riker get everything she would need packed. “You know this is almost like packing for a semester of college…that semester when I had all three of the required PE classes at the same time.” She chuckled. She did have a good point. She packed twelve pairs of comfortable cotton underwear and sports bras, a boat load of running socks. She actually didn’t have to bring a lot of day to day clothes. All their uniforms would be provided. That included their outer workout apparel and swimwear. She did take pajamas, mostly my tank tees and sleep shorts. We’d had to go and buy her a bunch of sleep shorts and a few pairs of long pajama pants. Usually she slept in panties if those. She had a habit of keeping an easy to don pair of pajamas on her nightstand. But when she was undercover, she dressed as her character would dictate. She never kept any of those clothes though and she hadn’t had to go undercover in over a year.

Since Riker loved to run, she collected sneakers like a rapper. So, it took her a minute to narrow it down to three pairs to pack in her one suitcase. Eventually she managed to only pack her favorite pair of Asics, which had basically been bought in bulk because she wore them out so quickly, a pair of Reeboks Crossfits that worked for running and cross training, and a pair of Pumas that she and Chris both swore made her faster. Then, even though she might not need them, she included two or three pairs of jeans and a couple of her favorite tanks and tee shirts. Once she was satisfied that she had everything that she needed…including several pairs of sunglasses, her lucky SPD ball cap, her new FBI ball cap and two different pairs of boat shoes, they were one of the few items on the list of things she needed to bring with her…we took a shower and got ready for dinner.

As soon as I was dressed, I got kicked out of my bedroom by Dom and Chareesma. I didn’t mind so much Dancing Wolf and Chris kept me company and soon we were joined by Grant and Gina. I was pretty sure that if Gina was just a little more comfortable with Dominique and Riker, she’d have joined the party in the other room. I did tell her that she looked very nice. And she did. Her long dark hair flowed in beachy waves down her back. Her makeup looked very natural and highlighted her lovely eyes. Her dress was a light, pinkish wine color shot through with metallic gold threads. She’d paired it with large gold hoops and simple, nude sandals with a thicker heel. I was fairly certain that she and Grant had plans for after dinner. Not that I blamed them. I planned to get my woman back in our bed as soon as was socially acceptable after dinner my damn self.

We gentlemen had all donned simple slacks and blazers with various white collared shirts. I was in charcoal. Dancing Wolf had gone with navy and Grant’s pants and jacket were chocolate brown. Chris, yes, she was a chick, but she totally counted as one of us…and that was the way she liked it. That evening, she’d gone with what I kind of considered to be her usual dinner out uniform, classy dark wash, skinny jeans, a great top, this time a teal black and silver halter, handkerchief hem top, and a pair of low-heeled black leather booties. She looked fierce with her hair in its natural almost curly state. Her makeup was pretty minimal, but her lips were a pretty shade of wineish mocha. Her earrings were the pair of diamond studs that Dom had gotten her for their last anniversary and the FitBit that she’d treated herself to as a reward for getting into the FBI. While we waited, Gina told us about getting her first solo client assignment. “The dude swears that he is a G when he dresses like he rolled out of bed and pulled on the first things his hands fell on. Clean or not. His hair is horrible and if he had any more fake gold on he could have been in the remake of that old Wayans’ brothers’ movie. But does he appreciate the fact that I managed to get the barber who works with Mercedes Jones’ personal hairstylist to see him on the shortest of all possible notice? No. The whiner baby just bitched and moaned because the barber guy said that he’d have to come back after he practiced some rudimentary personal hygiene. I don’t know why he got all butt hurt…he knew it was true.” We all had to laugh at the disgust on her face.

Fortunately, before any of us had to think of something to say, my mother-in-law to be came out of the master bedroom looking proud of herself. She was in a navy and pale blue flowered, ruffled, hippie-ish wrap dress that looked perfect on her. Age appropriate but not matronly, airy and light, but not unseasonably so. Her shoes gave her only a couple of inches of height, but the wedge sandals had very little navy leather leaving her feet almost in her favored state. She was wearing her curls down her back; her face was devoid of makeup other than some barely colored lip-gloss that was shiny and tinted a warm shade of red. Chareesma McGraw looked like she was Riker’s older sister and there was no changing that fact.

Dom popped her head out next. She was DRESSED. Full but subtle, evening makeup and a gorgeous bright red lip. I was almost certain that she’d filmed getting ready for her channel. I didn’t blame her, since moving to New York, her viewer ship had doubled, and she was being offered some really lucrative endorsement contracts. Things had developed so much for her, that Chris and Grant had talked her into entering a contract with me to help her with more traditional aspects of marketing and PR. Before she’d shooed me out of the bedroom, she had confided that she was actually thinking about getting studio space outside her apartment and going even more major. Her long, black and white stripped Jersey dress was asymmetrical at both neckline and hem and looked fashion forward, feminine and really pretty. With such a statement dress, she’d gone with simple, if stupidly high, black heels and diamond studs at her ears and the stackable platinum and diamond rings Chris had given her for their anniversary…and of course the matching wedding set. The understated accessories and flamboyant gown worked together to showcase her beautiful face and the slender curves of her form. She and Chris were about like Mellie, No Mercy and the rest of the women in my family as far as I was concerned, but that didn’t mean that I didn’t realize that they were both very beautiful women.

Of course, their arrival meant the arrival of the most beautiful woman in the world. My beautiful fiancée looked especially beautiful that night. The peach and black bands of the border of the huge handkerchief that seemed to make up the main part of the dress encompassed the golden hues of the background that hosted the bright pink palm fronds and big pink and ivory flowers that played across the sunset dress. It was a halter that had just one thin strap that went around Riker’s slender neck. Her curves gave the dress form and it was completely back less from the strap down to the small of her back. Her shoes were the barely pink color of some of the smallest florals of the dress…Like Dom’s the heels were thin and tall as hell. Riker’s face looked fresh and natural, showing off the glow of the tan she’d gotten as we’d played under the island sun. Her lips though, those were covered in a peachy-red glaze that made me want things I shouldn’t have even thought about in front of her father. Her engagement ring twinkled on her hand and gold and pink ‘feather’ earrings dangled from her ears, playing peekaboo through her dark curls.

“Alright, I’ve been primped and curled and perfumed…Now, I’m ready to go and show it off.” Riker said laughing.

“Just let me pick my jaw up off the floor.” I responded in quiet awe. Riker was gorgeous on any given day in jeans and a tee shirt. But all dolled up, it was almost unbelievable how beautiful she looked.

There may have been some laughter, but I ignored it as the ladies grabbed their purses and we headed out. We could have walked, and often when it was just me and Riker or me and the three ladies, we did walk it. But that night with so many of us and five ladies in heels, we took the cars. The drive was pretty much shorter than the parking, but it wasn’t a big deal. Thankfully, Grant had thought to call ahead. So, they had already put together tables and everything was in readiness when we got there. There were eight of us and they had five different appetizers that lent themselves to sharing. So we got those five and everyone had a nosh of shrimp cocktail, mushrooms stuffed with crab meat, calamari, barbecue shrimp, and a chilled seafood tower that had shrimp, lobster, and crab all in one. Over dinner we all talked. There were a multitude of different discussions. Gina was bending Chris and Riker’s ears to pick their brains about self-defense. Grant, Chareesma and Dancing Wolf were quietly discussing the Glynco township and the surrounding area. Dom was harassing me trying to get me to agree to help her find a great place for a studio. Five minutes later Chareesma was drilling me and Riker for details on our wedding. Most of her questions weren’t answered by either of us, but by Dom and Grant. Dancing Wolf and Gina bonded over the fact that they found that hilarious. The evening was very, very nice, filled with warmth and laughter. I was surprised, but not very when my father, Nadia and Mellie showed up and joined us for dessert. Mellie arrived carrying two fairly large gift bags.

“We had hoped to get here earlier, but Mom and I got back from visiting my grandparents later than we thought we would.” Mellie explained contritely. “But I couldn’t not come and see you again before you left.”

Riker gave her a hug. “I’m glad that I got to see you again too. Ms. Senior Year, are you loving ruling the school?”

Mellie laughed. “Maybe I would be if I had time to enjoy it. We have a bunch of fall senior activities and even more just school wide ones. I’m Student Council president because I couldn’t not at least run…my dad was a state representative. Then my friends decided that we should do a college tour road trip next month, just to be sure about our first choice schools. Which yeah, will probably be hella-fun, but my first five choices are Columbia, NYU, Fordham, The New School and Barnard. So, really, what the hell do I need to go to Connecticut or New Hampshire for? And let’s not forget that they’ve all done their real college visits with their parents last spring like normal people. At least I talked them out of that dumbass camping trip idea. Do I look like a girl that camps? No. not for all the tea in China would I take a wazz outdoors. On top of all of that drama and trauma, Mom is Hella Clingy and freaking out about my ‘determination to live in Manhattan my first real time away from home.’ Which just makes no sense because Daddy is full on moving to the city and Daniel and Mercedes are already here.” The frustration was strong in that one.

If every adult at the table was unsuccessfully hiding laughter, it wasn’t our faults. I blamed Gina. She cosigned every complaint Melliscent had made and then added. “Be grateful that you did talk them out of the camping trip. My senior year, I let my friends convince me to go with them to one of their parents cabins in Vermont. I thought it was going to be one of those ‘cabin in name only’ kind of places…nope, it had an outhouse…a f-ing outhouse. I have had some crappy weekends in my life…pun totally intended…but that one still remains top three level horrifying.”

There was no not laughing after that. It took us a minute to get the hilarity under control and to order dessert. Once the waiter had departed with our orders, I turned to Dad. “So, you decided for sure to move?”

He nodded. “Yes. Nadia is better able to do her side line in Manhattan and she’s going to go in with Mills and Francesca. Originally, she claimed that she was just helping to give them coverage while Mills is on maternity leave and reduced hours after that. But she has gotten really excited about getting back into the more traditional business world without having to bury herself under some idiotic ideal of ‘professionalism’. She passed the real estate and broker tests with flying colors on her first try. She took that as a sign. They already have more business than they can handle together, let alone Francie by herself. I don’t know what I’m going to do with myself, but I’ve made more than enough money in my life not to have to worry about it for a while. When the right opportunity comes along, I’ll take it. But I’m not going to just hop onto any old job just to have one.”

Riker gave me a long look. I knew just what she was thinking…and not just because I knew her that well. I was thinking it too. But that was neither the time nor the place. Mellie laughed. “Nadia is already looking for an apartment near campus.”

“Hey, it’s not my fault I actually like you and want to spend time with you. That’s on you.” She teased. “Besides, I’m not looking ‘near campus’…it just so happens that Columbia is fairly near the Upper West Side, which is where Francesca and Neil are looking, and I want to be near enough to torment the hell out of her every single day.” I’d been around Nadia long enough to see that she and Francine had a weird relationship. Though the same age, Nadia viewed Francesca as an obnoxious little sister to be lovingly abused and yet watched closely whenever life would allow. The most humorous part was that Francesca treated Nadia exactly the same way. It was an interesting relationship, one they both appreciated and enjoyed. “Anyway, don’t you have gifts to give.”

“Oh, yeah…” Mellie smiled brightly. “Okay, so yeah, I read online that they are going to give you all the clothes you need minus like your bras and panties and socks and stuff. So, there was no reason to give you any like tee shirts or whatever. Instead Nadia helped me get each of you a pair of Ray Bans because, ya know, CSI-Miami and Top Gun. And since you’re going to be there through the winter…I got you some gloves and hats…but not heavy ones, because Chareesma told me that they don’t have what we consider winter. Umm, there is a ton of sunscreen because the sun is stronger the closer you get to the equator. Did you guys realize that like only a third of the sunscreens on the market are actually the SPF they claim to be? And the best ones are not the expensive ones either. The ones you get from Target and Sprawl-Mart are in the top three on Consumer Reports. The ones with names I thought would be awesome weren’t even in the top five. It’s weird. We got you some of that OFF stuff with Deet because the bugs down there are NO JOKE. Then there are the fun things, like word search books and a couple of trashy romance novels. Chris, I even managed to find a lesbian one just for you.” Mellie was ridiculously proud of that one. “I found a really awesome male slash one for myself, but I will totally let either of you borrow it if you want, I finished it already.”

Chareesma raised her hand. “I might wanna borrow that. I love those books…they are hard to find, but I read every one I can get my hands on.”

Dancing Wolf smiled at his wife then gave the rest of us a grin. “I read one. It was well written. The historical context was well researched…but I just didn’t get the allure. Though, the side effects of Eesma reading those are pretty damn good though.”

I chuckled at his wry comment. “Then I doubt Chris and Dom would get the allure of those novels either.” I teased the two women I loved like sisters. “Mellie-Mine, it looks like your book is probably safe from everybody here except Nadia, Riker and Momma C.”

“Hey, what about me?” Gina sounded teasingly offended.

I just shrugged. “I figured that your Catholic upbringing and guilt would mean that you couldn’t even acknowledge the existence of smutty novels, let alone homoerotic ones.”

Gina’s smirk was so devious it was profoundly disturbing. “Dan the Man, what the church and my Nonna don’t know can’t hurt me.”

The entire table shared a long laugh at that. When we got calmed down, Mellie finally handed Riker and Chris their respective gift bags. Little sister had also included black, red and silver Sharpies. “So that you can put your names or initials or whatever in your uniforms.” Packets of Tide, Clorox 2, Oxiclean and fabric softener, all of them hypo-allergenic and free of dyes and fragrance. It was funny that as tough and badass as both Riker and Chris were, the wrong laundry detergent would fuck them up. “I’m just guessing that they aren’t going to give you enough uniforms for the whole time you’re going to be down there and who knows how long it will be before you can go to a store. So, I got you the small packs to hold you until you can either go shopping or get your Amazon on.”

Chris laughed. “I’m so glad for you, because…not gonna lie…I hadn’t even thought about that.” Dom cosigned that statement and to our shame, Riker and I had to do so as well. We tried to avoid laundry as much as humanly possible. Neither of us liked doing any part of it, so we put it off until absolutely necessary and the thing we both loved the most about Manhattan, and Weehawken as well, was the easy availability of fluff and fold by the pound laundry places.

Mellie’s present opened the floodgates. Gina went next. She hadn’t been dating Grant all that long, but it was long enough that she felt it incumbent upon her to get them something herself. However, since she didn’t know either woman very well, so she prioritized usefulness over personal connection. Riker and Chris each received a pair of shower shoes and a pair of comfortable looking, soft slippers from the young lady who was dating the baby of our crew. Chareesma and Dancing Wolf materialized two gift boxes out of the bowels of Chareesma’s massive knit purse. In the months since their move to New York, the duo had basically adopted Chris, whose mother had died of an aneurysm when she was fifteen and whose father had died of a widow maker heart attack five years previously. It made a certain cosmic sense. Chris and Riker were as close as sisters and had, on more than one occasion, used a sibling relationship as a cover for their assignments. Riker’s parents took that as a sign and treated her as their own. Their gift was more personally meaningful. Chris opened the small gift box to find a beautiful, simple and subtly feminine gold crucifix. It was the only piece of jewelry she’d be allowed to wear during her training other than her wedding band and she was clearly touched. So much so that she had it on her neck before Riker could even open her box. Inside her gift box, my beautiful badass found a necklace of the same metal, but it only seemed to be a religious icon at first. What appeared to be an encircled cross actually had arrow points on each branch. The pendant was a four-point compass rose necklace which meant far more to the three of them than a cross would have. The three of them had long ago decided that no matter how far apart they were, the points on a compass were always the same…and therefore they were never too far away from each other. There was also a cultural significance for them as well. Most native American cultures have a very significant relationship with the compass rose, the Choctaw were no different.

Officially, Grant’s gift to his sister-in-law and her partner were a round trip ticket each for one of the long weekend breaks they had in their training schedule. But we all knew that what he truly gave them was the gift of his efficiency. He’d handled their initial flight arrangements. He’d set them up with the one-way rental car they would need to get from the airport in Savannah down to the training center. They would end up have to run about four miles after they turned it in, but that wasn’t a problem for either Riker nor Chris. That was a warm up run for them. My father and Nadia also had ‘good luck in your majorly intense training’ gifts for my fiancée and her best friend. Each of them got a laptop safe to give them a safer place where they could keep their iPads in their ‘dorm’ rooms while they were in training.

After dessert, there were hugs all around. The next morning, we’d be up at the ass crack of dawn to get Riker and Chris to JFK in time for their six am flight. It was kind and thoughtful of our friends and family to allow the two of us and Chris and Dom to return to our apartments alone that night. I don’t know about our sisters, but Riker and I made love for the bulk of our time remaining. So much so that when the alarm rang out at four, Riker was riding my dick and making us both extremely, extremely happy. We turned off the distraction and resumed our passionate good byes. We shared a shower as well. Probably it was a bad idea. We ended up running a bit behind. It was never a good idea to run late for a flight when those flying were packing. Even though the guns were service weapons and both women had licenses to carry and their law enforcement credentials, it was still a pain in the ass. Dom and I hated having to leave them at the security checkpoint. Saying good bye, even knowing that it was a temporary separation that was allowing our hearts’ homes to take the next step in making their dreams come true…it was hard as hell.

The trip back to Weehawken started off quiet, but with Dominique as my copilot, I wasn’t surprised that it didn’t stay that way for long. “Okay, enough of this sad shit. I’ll have plenty of time to cry and miss my lady love when I’m rattling around my apartment all by my damn self for the next twelve fucking weeks. Let’s talk about something happy. Did I tell you that my YouTube channel hit eight and a half million subscribers earlier this month? Chris thinks it’s time that I rent studio space somewhere so I can go even bigger.” She continued after I congratulated her on the milestone. “And a little birdy told me that someone else in this car was thinking about making some big moves.”

“Chris nor Riker can ever be considered little birdies…and they both run their mouths too much.” I grumbled.

Dom just laughed at me. “Maybe so, but we all agree that it’s a good idea, especially if it will give you a distraction from Riker’s absence. When she and Chris would go undercover, you would fill your time with extra work and bothering Charlie and Mellie a million and three times a day. But Baby Boy, Charlie’s literally a country away and Mellie, she’s a senior…she doesn’t have time to hold your hand and get you through this one. And when she does have some extra time…she’s going shopping with me.”

I couldn’t help but laugh at the truths of her characterization of how I tended to act when our women were out of pocket. “Shut up…I swear, sometimes I think I should never have let you spend so much time with my baby sister. Sibling thief.”

“Anyway, I think your dad knows too. Because last night he was totally fishing for an invite to join you. Why else did he keep talking about how he didn’t want a job-like job?”

“Wait, really?” I asked her. I knew that he had given voice to that thought a couple of times over the course of dinner, but I hadn’t read anything into it.

“Dude, you’re so dense. Of course, he was and you said that you needed a partner.” She pointed out.

“One would be a start. But two is really my necessity.” I admitted. With my commission from KAMA’s tour merch sales, I was definitely in a good place to create my own space and brand. But I would be a hell of a lot more comfortable about Riker and my future financial plans if I didn’t have to do it all alone. 

“So call Charlie.” She said simply. “He would love to move out here. Tracye is aching to come…the Manhattan DA’s office has made her two offers and Brooklyn’s DA keeps throwing money at her. The only thing that is holding them up is that all the firms here want Charlie to be somebody he’s just not.”

“Wait, I didn’t know that they were looking to move.” I blurted out.

Dom gave me a surprised look and shook her head in derision. “You and Charlie talk every week…what the hell are you guys spending all that time on the phone talking about?”

“I don’t knowI don’t know. Sometimes we talk about our fantasy football league. Other time we talk about the client’s I’m consulting on for Revolution…the Knicks, the Mariners, the Seahawks, the Supersonics…the important things.”

The eye roll was intense. “Oh my god. And people wonder why I’m a lesbian.” She sighed. “Call your friend and make the offer. What are you waiting on a sign from God? Those are never clear. Most of the time we miss them completely.”

She had a point…but apparently God knew I was as dense as Dom thought I was…because when he sent me a sign, it was bright and neon with big ass arrows on it. When I arrived to work the next day, I went home the day Riker departed for training and wallowed in moroseness and caught up on the sleep I’d missed the night before. Anyway, the very next day, when I stepped on the elevator of our office building, I was slapped by the Lord’s signal. “I cannot believe that the venture capital firm on eighteen went under. I heard that their floor is in foreclosure. It will be sold off for a song.” One of the ladies who worked in the building management’s office on the fifth floor told her male companion.

“I know…at least you didn’t have to give up your weekend to allow the police to let the poor office worker come in and get their personal things.” The guy said with a sigh. “According to the rep from their bank, they are hoping to do a short sale…for the floor and it even includes some of the big office equipment.”

Well, dense I may have been, but Mikayla Harris-Garvin had not raised a fool. I opened my mouth and quietly interjected. “I’m sorry to eavesdrop…but I’d kick myself later if I didn’t ask you which bank it was and if you knew the point of contact?” 

God must have decided to make sure that I knew what he wanted me to do. Because the guy actually answered me. “It’s not a big deal. We probably should have waited until we got into the office to discuss it. If your bosses are interested, we’d love to have them become an even bigger presence in the building. They’re amazingly drama free. But yeah, I can tell you right now that the bank was Barclays. I’ll have to get you the contact information for the banker though. I have his card in my office.”

I gave him my card and asked him to call me with it as soon as he could. I had barely made it to my desk before he called me with the banker’s name and number. When I talked to the banker, since he was at Barclays, I name dropped Saul Mayzer and explained that he was my financial advisor and suddenly the guy got chatty. Turned out that one Mr. Phillip Yeoman had more of a connection than just Saul, he’d been seeing one of the male KAMA dancers, Simeon, since shortly after the new year and they’d picked back up when Simmy got home from the tour. “So, look, here is the contact information for the current owner. With a short sale, you’ll need to go to him first and get him to accept your offer and then we step in and decide to accept or reject it. If we accept the offer, we’ll drop the lien against the property and it will be yours. Now the easiest way to get accepted by us is to have cash on the barrel head rather than another loan.”

“I can do that.” I said quickly. “Can you let me know how much I’ll need to offer this guy?”

“Technically, no. But if Simmy found out that I didn’t help you, he’d cut me off and considering he’s only been back a couple of weeks, I’m not trying to risk that.” He joked. There was some typing then Yeoman audibly smirked. “Killian owes us five hundred and sixty-three thousand. I’m willing to bet money that as long as you offer at least what he owes us, so he can walk away without us filing for a deficiency judgement against him, he’d snatch that up with a quickness. I am seeing that he’s filed a request for us to accept an offer about an hour ago, but its only for three hundred thousand and hold up. Oh yeah, that asshole is trying to put through a short sale offer from one of his other projects. Rejected…does he not know that Google knows all. Yeah, I’m making a note in the file with all the LLCs and Incs that he’s associated with. Nice try schmuck. Anyway, offer him six hundred if you can and I’ll make sure that you get the place. Simmy says that you’re good people.” I couldn’t help but smile at how besotted the banker seemed with the dancer.

“Thanks man. Let me call Saul and get my shit together and I’ll put in the offer, probably before close of business today.” I told him and we hung up.

But my next call wasn’t to Saul. Instead, I called in Ethan and let him know what I was thinking of doing. In a matter of minutes, Ethan had my father on the line. “Bryant, I’m here with your boy and he’s thinking about going major league. Did you know?”

“So, you made up your mind? because last I heard you were just starting to consider your options.” Dad spoke directly to me. I laid out what had happened since we last spoke and he got thoughtful. “Alright, look, I’ll kick in another fifty grand towards the property…because you’re right, we want you to be able to stick close to your cousin and being just a couple of floors away should be close enough to make this move workable. Besides, it will set us apart from all the big, obnoxious firms centered right off Madison Avenue. If we get it, I’ll match your six hundred with another five-fifty for redecorating and getting the place kitted out. You call Saul and I’ll call Nadia and her girls and have them put the offer together and get it submitted.”

Uncle Ethan was a funny ass hole because as soon as Dad finished his orders, he clapped his hands together and shouted, “Break.”

It was funny. And we did break the connection and we all got to work. Saul was quick to free up ten percent of my commission to back up the offer and Nadia, Mills and Francesca got the offer in just as fast. I went to work on promoting the coming singles for No Mercy and her guys. Then I called Charlie. “Alright Chuckles, no time for BS. Real talk, if I told you that I was going to build a firm and needed another partner…”

“I’d say how much…I’ve got over half a million in CDs and bonds.” He shot back. “If that ain’t enough I am perfectly willing to turn tricks on the Ave to get my Black ass out of Revolution before I catch a case behind one of these entitled mommas’ boys that either think they are the shit right out of college. Or worse the ones who think their blond hair and blue eyes mean they are automatically the best fit for a corner fucking office.”

It was a frustration phenomenon that so many brand new junior analysts liked to believe that because they were young and fresh, they were somehow better when it came to PR than a more seasoned veteran. However Revolution had Marty Rosenblum who was always quick to disabuse the new hires of their ill-earned superiority. “Where’s Marty?”

“Man, Didn’t I tell you? Marty’s been out for a couple of weeks. He had to have triple bypass surgery. All those pastrami sandwiches.” Charlie said sadly. “He’s alright, but his wife wants him to take early retirement. You know he’s rich as shit so he might as well. But keepin’ it one hundred, I want to be gone if he decides for sure that he’s getting that fishing boat and a Florida address. Besides, me and Tracye have been looking to move out there with you guys for the last six months. It’s boring out here without y’all exciting asses. Hell, we even miss Grant’s quiet ass. Grocery shopping is a pain in the ass without him. And having him kick my ass in CoD just isn’t the same without his little ‘I’m not smirking’ smirk right there next to me.”

“You didn’t tell me shit about Marty. Shoot me his address so I can send him an edible arrangement or a fruit basket or some shit, asshole.” I grumbled. “Anyway, look, I’ve put in an offer for office space. My Dad’s coming in too. So, it will be the three of us to start with. Get your money together because your portion is gonna be payroll for an office manager, an accountant and a janitor for the first year or so. I’ll have my uncle draw up and the partnership agreement and send it to you. Everything will be full thirds after the initial investments, debts, profits, responsibilities, everything.”

“Hell yeah, I’m so down for this. I’ll let Tracye know that she can pick her favorite offer and start moving on it.” Charlie laughed merrily.

“Yo, Chuckles, Mercedes and her boys are going to be our flagship clients. You cannot give Sam and Puck any reason to kick your ass because you know that me and my dad will just let them. Possibly while pointing and laughing…but we will definitely let them beat the brakes off of you for any inappropriate comments about Ain’t Got No Mercy’s body.” I warned.

Charlie proved exactly why I tended to call him Chuckles. He laughed. “Danny-Boy, you know good and well that I was just bullshitting. Your cousin is a beautiful young lady…but she is the same age as my baby cousin that my momma raised. I just like fucking with you and you always get red as hell when I start in.”

“You’re a sucky ass friend.” I shot back. “I don’t even know why you were the first person I thought of when I said I needed a partner.”

“Because you know you actually love me like a brother from another mother and you know that I’m damn good at what we do.” He returned. “Let me get off with you and call my broker. I need to restructure some shit and liquidate so I can meet my part of the partnership. Have you thought of a name yet?”

I smiled to myself. “We should keep it classy…HH&K Public Relations. Make ‘em assume that we’re a trio of old money, popinjays.”

Charles smirked audibly. “Well, with names like Bryant, Daniel and Charles that shit could work.” We shared a laugh and then he signed off to start the ball rolling on his end.

On my side of things, as soon as I finished up with Charles, I called my primary client, well one third of them. We spoke as she was traveling from Columbia to Julliard. I needed to make sure that she was good with me stepping out a bit and taking on new clients. “Boy you’d better do your thing. I expected this to happen eventually and I am so happy for you.” She said happily. Ain’t Got No Mercy even proved it by promising that she would get Kurt and Haja to work with Dom on getting the whole place decorated and up to snuff. I loved that kid.

I went back to work for my clients. I also let a few of them know that I would soon be accepting new large name clients on a small scale. That night, I had a ton of things to talk about with Riker when she called. Then again, it was her first real day of training, so she had a lot to talk about herself. My beloved badass would be gone for twelve weeks. It would take up to sixty days to find out if Yeoman really could ensure that Barclays accepted my offer. I would need to establish all of the incorporation documents, possibly a business line of credit. I needed to create our logo and marketing materials and get ready to make the huge move if we got the space. Turned out that my fiancée and our best friends were right…launching my own PR and marketing firm was going to be a wonderful way to fill the time until Riker was able to come home. I still missed her though.

 

I’ll Go Crazy (The Temptations)  
Ambient PoV  
Lima, Ohio

As she sat in the pretty living room of her ‘apartment’ in the basement of her home just a week after Labor Day, Rachel Berry thought to herself, ‘If I don’t find a way to get the hell out of Lima soon,I’m going to go crazy’. She had been released from Lost Creek just a few days after Shelby Cochran’s visit. However, Rachel had only been home for less than a week when that thought crossed her mind for the fifth time. After destroying her room as her reaction to the news shared with her by her biological mother, Rachel had been returned to Twin Valley Behavioral Healthcare Hospital and spent the next two months in intensive, in patient therapy. The doctors at Twin Valley had been unsurprised to realize that much of Rachel’s inability to walk long distances were a fabrication. They did extensive testing to determine if the ailment was psychosomatic or simply another manipulation. By the end of her second week there, her doctors unanimously agreed that she knew she was physically almost completely healed, but was using the supposed disability to cover for the fact that she had no current direction. Unfortunately, when they confronted her with that knowledge, Rachel had shut down and refused to talk or even eat for an extended time period. Her nine-day-long hunger strike did not include water, fortunately, but she refused to let anything else cross her lips. It was only ended when one of the dietary counselors explained to her that her body was beginning to use her muscle mass to make the glucose necessary for cell metabolism.

“You know, poor Audrey Hepburn was never able to dance again after the extended malnutrition she experienced in her youth.” The seemingly passing comment at the end of a singularly unproductive therapy session, reached to the heart of Rachel’s narcissism. Rachel had to show the world that she was the best singer Broadway had ever seen. She knew she couldn’t do that if she wasn’t able to dance. So, she ate. She even willingly consumed animal proteins to ensure the health of her muscles. As a reward, after two weeks of recuperation, she was shown to the music therapy room and allowed to sing and too dance. That was a compromise reached at the beginning of that internment. Rachel would be allowed to sing…but only if she attended and participated in her therapy sessions and only in the perfectly soundproof music therapy room. Too many of her floor mates found her voice ‘soulless’, ‘disturbing’ or ‘quiescent’…and they all found her warm up exercises to be ‘scary’. Not that Rachel actively cared. But in the effort to lull the staff and doctors into releasing her from what she considered to be unjust imprisonment, Rachel forced herself to adhere to their edicts.

Once a week, her daily therapy session was shared with her two fathers. It was there that Rachel enjoyed herself the most. “They’ve replaced me. As soon as they realized I was flawed, they set about replacing me.” She would say tearfully, only somewhat sincerely and often.

Antwan and Hiram would defend themselves with truthful protestations like, “we had more children, Rachel, additional, not instead of.” Or, “We love you, Reba, Channing and Terrence all equally Rachel.”

Rachel listened to their words and then she subtly introduced ways that her fathers could prove the equality of their love. It probably would have worked, it always had in the past. But in the past she’s not been forced to practice her management of her fathers in front of a trained psychologist. “Ms. Berry,” Dr. Guthrie had asked one day near the end of their family session. “You’ve asked your fathers to prove their love to you. An action I believe that time has shown is redundant. They clearly love you very much and have done everything they can to stick by your side during your many trials these last three or four years. How do you show them that you love them?”

What followed was ten minutes of eloquent babbling that was easily summarized as “I allow them to bask in the greatness of being around me and I sing for them whenever they want.”

“But, Rachel, have you ever done chores?”

“I suppose that I did when I was very young, but then as I grew older, I always had so many activities that I just didn’t have the time. I barely had time to do my homework after I got home from my singing, acting and dancing lessons and my fathers understood that.” She defended. “My room was always neat and tidy.”

Dr. Guthrie made a note. “Very well, did you talk to them about your worries, your fears…things that made you happy? Did you share things with them other than your ambitions?”

“Of course I shared all my triumphs with them.” Rachel stated with false calm. She doubted that the therapist would consider the fact that she had often crowed about every single win she’d ever had as ‘sharing’ with her fathers.

“Ah, but triumphs are very easy for you to share, Ms. Berry, are they not? Did you share your failures? Your disappointments, your troubles?”

“She did tell us when she was being bullied in elementary school.” Hiram interjected.

Dr. Guthrie didn’t say anything, just looked at Rachel like he was reading her very soul. He knew from earlier solitary sessions that Rachel’s experiences in elementary had never been as bad as she’d made her father believe. Nor had they been as bad as they eventually grew in middle and high school. Rachel knew that many of her peers felt she’d deserved their scorn and ridicule since she’d behaved selfishly and often manipulated things to ensure that she was favored above all of those around her. One of the crowning achievements of her second grade year had been getting one of the teachers to believe that sweet little Brittany Pierce had pushed her off the monkey bars ladder. The truth was that Rachel hadn’t been able to pull herself from the ladder correctly and fallen. But her own narcissism wouldn’t allow her to admit that she’d not excelled at something on her first try. It had been easier to blame another and Brittany, who loved the monkey bars had been behind her waiting her turn. 

While Rachel and her therapist were thinking about examples from more than a decade before, Antwan’s thoughts were on far more recent incidents. As much as he’d heard Dr. Watson’s lecture on Rachel’s adult status and how the fact that she was over the age of eighteen meant that she didn’t have to share her medical problems with her fathers, Antwan couldn’t help but feeling resentful of having been kept in the dark. After all, she was still on his health insurance, living in an apartment that he and Hiram paid for. They still paid all her bills and supplied her with a weekly stipend to live on. All of those combined, in Antwan’s mind, to remove any claim to adulthood that Rachel may have tried to assert. She was still his child and he wanted to know when something was wrong with her. Yet, even as he experienced those thoughts, Antwan knew that they were probably rooted in the deeply imbedded fear that still shook his soul after the assault his eldest had experienced on a New York subway train. The fear of losing his baby girl and not even knowing that she was sick or in danger until it was too late to do anything about it.

Rachel finally shook off her thoughts and gave Dr. Guthrie a quelling look. “Any perceived disappointments are simply stepping stones on my journey to greatness.”

“Yes,” Dr. Guthrie began sounding conciliatory in a way only a person trained to notice the signs of mental illness can truly pull off. “But most people your age share those events with their parents. Not only because it lessens the sting of rejection or failure or disappointment but also because there is a level of love and trust of their support systems. Even through the veil of your illness, your anecdotes still show that your fathers have certainly shown you love and support in every aspect of your life. Why do you think you didn’t feel comfortable sharing negative events and emotions even with them?”

She only shrugged. But Hiram had a sudden epiphany. “Rachel, did you hide these things because you were unwilling to voice anything that you felt made you less superlative? Did you hide them because speaking your failures or disappointments aloud would have meant you had to face them…they would have been real?”

“A wonderful insight Mr. Hiram.” Despite their desire to maintain professionalism, all the doctors and staff member of Twin Valley had long since given up on calling both men Mr. Berry. The grinning Dr. Guthrie was no exception. “Unfortunately, that is certainly an expected characteristic of those with NPD. However, it often happens because, in their psychosis, they are fundamentally incapable of accepting responsibility for their failures. In most cases they blame others and rationalize away any and all perceived faults. In others they simply refuse to acknowledge that such an even could have happened to someone as superior as they believe themselves to be.”

“That is patently ridiculous.” Rachel scoffed. “I simply saw no reason to discuss things that have no true bearing on my life. They ultimately just didn’t matter.”

“Why didn’t they matter?” Dr. Guthrie prodded.

At the same moment the good doctor posed his query, both Hiram and Antwan asked their daughter, “Didn’t matter to whom?”

Rachel’s face contorted into an atrocious facsimile of her confident smile. “They didn’t matter because at worst they would eventually be amusing, humanizing anecdotes for my memoires. They had no real bearing on who I am destined to be. I know now that they were accidental side effects of my youthful inability to see the big picture. To see that I have no need of friends or a boyfriend. That nothing matters other than achieving my destiny of greatness.”

“So, nothing matters…no one matters. No one except you and what you want?” Antwan’s voice was colder than either Rachel or Hiram had ever heard it.

“Exactly Daddy.” Rachel said with a big grin that slid off her face as she realized what she’d said. “No. I just meant that a small, inconsequential amount of emotional discomfort is not a big deal when weighted against a destiny fulfilled.”

Hiram shook his head. “Rachel, the thing about destines is that in the long run it is more important how they are fulfilled than if they are fulfilled. Hitler may have been destined to rule. It was the way that he chose to fulfill his destiny that has made him one of the most reviled historical figures of all time.”

“Really, Father…: Rachel drawled. “That straw man’s argument? What does Hitler have to do with me?”

Dr. Guthrie stopped Hiram from rebutting. “Ms. Berry, you know your diagnosis. And, while modern psychoanalysis was still growing and gaining ground at the time, Adolph Hitler presented with all of the symptoms of a self-obsessed narcissist. So, your father is raising a very valid, and pertinent, point.” 

In the living room of her basement suite at her father’s home, months later, Rachel refused to acknowledge the truth she’d felt ring through the doctor’s final proclamation of that session. She knew that she was not self-obsessed as the psychiatrists at Twin Valley often said. She was simply determined and had a destiny to fulfill. Even with her earlier disquieting thoughts on her need to leave her home town as soon as she could manage, Rachel was also very happy. A very rich gentleman who had at one time owned a small record label had approached her through her YouTube channel. Corbin Richardson was starting another label and they were currently in talks to make Rachel one of his first artists. With a gleeful heart, she’d quickly fulfilled his request and sent him all the videos of her high school star performances. Rachel had taken them down from her channel on the day when her comment counts had shot from the single digits to the thousands…and all of them were about that fat cunt, the gibbering idiot and the sexual predator. Mr. Richardson had mentioned them only in passing and not in a complementary way.

Had Rachel been as savvy and intelligent as she believed herself to be, she would have realized that her new ‘friend’ had subtly pumped her for every bit of information that she knew about Mercedes Jones, Sam Evans and Noah Puckerman. After that phone call, he had more personal information as to likes, dislikes and preferences that he’d had before. Thanks to Rachel’s sheer gullibility, Richardson had insights into KAMA’s preferred foods and idiosyncrasies. All the things that Hudson, Brantley and Haja had taken into account when planning their tour rider. Still, had she known, she still would not have cared. Richardson had promised to fly her out to LA to sign the contracts as soon as his new label was up and running. He promised to showcase her talent. She saw only that her drive and ambition to be the next Barbra were coming true and even more, in the same manner as her iconic legendary muse. Even without specific dates, Rachel was happily researching life in LA…not realizing what she had done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to change how I post. Because both my and my Beta's lives are pretty crazy, I'm going to post when I have at least one chapter ahead and the 'to be posted' chapter is ready. 
> 
> So check in every other weekend. Hopefully, you'll get a new chapter at least every other week. 
> 
> Read, Enjoy and Comment.   
> TTFN,   
> Anni


	6. III. Telegraph Ave. (Childish Gambino)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An examination of Tessa's first steps into the collegiate experience.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank all of you for being avid readers & reviewers of my stories:  
> I appreciate all of you.  
> Boredom Busting Fic Rec  
> You Complete Me by Countess Black (Criminal Minds Fic)
> 
> Dedicated to: linntherese, MsLadythankyouverymuch, ericasfandom & JJBelle Thank you all for continuing to let me know that you’re still reading & still care about this work.

Chapter 6

III. Telegraph Ave. (Childish Gambino)  
Tessa PoV

The nine hours of flight time from Iowa City to Bridgetown Barbados gave me a ton of time to think about things. Especially since Joe was a knock-out flier. He got into his seat and knocked out. Anyway, looking back at the last couple of months I reached a definite conclusion. I, officially, was having the world’s best college experience ever. It was so much better than anything I’d even allowed myself to dream about. And it all started before we ever got near campus. Before the end of May, we had to create my ID online with a picture of our choosing. I was very much in favor of that practice. I was able to pick a picture that really looked like me on a day to day basis, but was still flattering and a ‘good’ pic. Joe talked me into taking his ID picture for him. The process turned out to be a lot of fun. We took the pictures outside the Hammerstein Ballroom after we changed into our ‘uniforms’. The ‘photo shoot’ was especially fun since Joe decided that it was best if he was freshly kissed in his picture. “After all, we do kiss a lot, so probably people wouldn’t recognize me without my kips all kiss-plump.” He reasoned. It wasn’t a hard ship to kiss him. Anyway, we completed our Admissions Profile sent in our ID pics and made the orientation reservations…catching the last possible dates so they wouldn’t impact our summer jobs too much.

The way U of Iowa handled freshman orientation was pretty the only thing that didn’t make me super happy with my college experience. University of Iowa’s orientation was a two-part program, the pre-orientation happened during the summer and the second part occurred for the three days before classes started. Joe and I lucked out and we managed to get the perfect date, allowing us to do our pre-orientation while the tour was on a four-day break between the two South Carolina stops. However, before we could do the two-day orientation, we spent time online taking the online portion of the Success at Iowa freshman course. That definitely made me even more grateful for the Wi-Fi on the buses. Even with all the videos and video tours that we had to do, the Wi-Fi never gave us any problems at all. Joe and I both completed the course easily, knocking out all five stages in just three days. I liked to believe that given the ‘common sense’ nature of all that the class taught us, our class mates completed it pretty easily too.

Working on the tour, the summer flew by. Before we realized it, it was late June and after celebrating Father’s Day and Kevon and Patrice’s first anniversary and spending time with Unique, Dad and Mom, Joe’s parents, Joe and I flew to Iowa City. Since our house wasn’t ready the parents got us room at the Hilton Garden Inn, near the campus. It was hilarious that they got Joe and I one hotel room…to share. We did have two separate queen beds. But that was entirely thanks to the Dads. Mom and Joe’s mom, Racheal, insisted that we really only needed a single king room. Neither Dad nor Jacob, Joe’s father, were willing to ‘pay for their children to fornicate’. Even the description of the argument between the two older couples was pretty hilarious.

The pre-orientation schedule started really early in the morning, so we got there the night before. The hour long, after dinner flight went by quickly. The Expedition Dad rented was waiting on us. Hotel check-in went flawlessly, at least once they got Joe and I clear on the room arrangements. We were all on the same floor. The parents were actually across the hall from Joe and I. “Alright, we’re all adults so we’re all on our own for dinner or whatever tonight.” Dad started his voice ringing with authority. “But remember we have to be at check-in by eight fifteen. I want to be there no later than eight.”

“So that means we’ll need to meet in the lobby no later than seven, so we can get breakfast.” Rachael commanded. I knew from Joe, Mary, Nic, Eli, Calah, Kal, and Phoebe that Rachael Hart didn’t play when it came to starting a day with a filling breakfast. So, I knew that Joe would insist that we be ready and head down by seven at the latest.

As such, our only possible reply was, “Yes Ma’am.”

With that we all entered our separate rooms. Joe and I were very responsible, we took a few minutes to plug up our electronics, pull out our pajamas, toiletries and the clothes we’d brought with us for the next couple of days and shove our carryon bags onto the shelf of the closet. I’d brought my Christmas gift from him to wear for my pajamas. The ivory silk cami and shorts set hadn’t gone on the tour with us, all my tour bus pjs were ratty tee-shirts that had originally belonged to one of my older brothers, dad or father figures and boxers or cut off long pajama pants. The gift Joe had given me had almost stayed in Lima for this short trip, but something had told me that I needed to bring them…I was so glad that I had.

“Are you hungry?” I asked Joe before we committed to staying in the room by showering or something.

He looked like he was thinking about it. Then his smile turned wicked. “I could eat.”

His actions belied his words however. Rather than heading towards the door or grabbing the room service menu, Joe wrapped me in his arms and kissed my breath away. We had our rules for our play time that allowed us both to be satisfied and yet allowed Joe to remain true to his religious ideals. It was funny, I’d been fairly agnostic before Dad and I’d moved to Lima. We called ourselves Catholic, and we’d gone to Mass every Christmas and some Easters…but I’d not had anything approaching actual faith. That was what had allowed both me and Dad to slide so easily into attending Temple with Becah, Noah and Sarah whose faith was limitless in its strength. Through attending synagogue with Becah, and the Methodist church on more than a few occasions with the Jones and hearing and loving Joe had managed to create a faith in me that I’d never actually dreamed possible. I still wasn’t a ‘good Christian’, my faith was too much of amalgamation of Judaism, Methodist, Catholic and Baptist theologies for that, but I believed deeply in the love and power of a one true God. Reaching that point had made it easier to respect the way Joe practiced his faith. It probably helped that we’d worked together to find a wonderful way to keep my Irish hormones under control without abusing the commandments too much.

That evening we made our love, kissing and caressing. Driving each other to climax after climax with our words, hands and mouths. We did bend one rule a bit, we took a shower together. Joe knew everything that I’d explored with Aidan, he knew everything I’d read about online and wanted to explore with him. So that night, as we showered together, he allowed me to experience a simple golden shower while my fingers were busy frigging my clit. I came so hard, I actually screamed myself hoarse. It was wonderful. Then Joe took such good care of me. He washed and conditioned my hair with my René Furterer Sublime Curl, Curl Activating Shampoo and Conditioner that Veronica made me buy in bulk. While the conditioner was doing its work, Joe took my favorite Nivea Creme Sensitive Moisturizing Body Wash and my green pouf and carefully washed my arms and legs and torso. After I washed my more delicate and yet more cleansing necessary areas with a wash cloth and some Dove soap, I returned the favor and washed his body with his gold colored pouf and Cetaphil Gentle Skin Cleanser. He had washed and conditioned his locs the day before and honestly they’d only just felt fully dry, so we didn’t wash them again that night.

For a moment as we dried off and pulled on our pajamas, I allowed myself to feel the joyous happiness in the knowledge that I was just as sexually satisfied and more emotionally fulfilled with Joe than I ever had with Aidan. I said as much to Joe while he was gently combing and braiding my hair. “That’s because I love you in a way that he never did and never could. I hope that he finds who God means for him to have. But you Tessa Marie…you were meant for me and I for you.”

“Wow,” I breathed. I arched up to kiss him and whispered my words of love against his lips. For just a moment, I felt a split second of fear at the thought of being that special…of being someone so good’s destined mate. Yet, even that moment of worry and doubt couldn’t make me deny the inherent truth I felt echoing through his word. “I promise to always try and be a reward for you…not an albatross.”

“Tessa, I’m the one who has to be worthy of you. I truly think that God has so much planned for you. You’re going to do so much and I’m just hoping that I can support you through all of your work.”

“Well then, why don’t we agree to both do our best, each and every day, to be supportive and worthy of each other?” I returned as he finished his braiding and we got ready for bed.

We set every possible alarm in the room, both our phones, both our tablets, the alarm clock on the nightstand, and we requested a wakeup call. We did start the night in two separate beds and stayed separate for all of five minutes. But it wasn’t until Joe stood up, came over and joined me in the queen I’d taken, still keeping his body between mine and the room door, I was able to sleep. It was a good thing that we’d set six alarms because I’d not slept that well and that deeply since prom night. I still didn’t immediately get up at six like I was supposed to, so Joe grabbed a quick shower while I was forcing myself to wake up. I took a quick shower myself while Joe shaved, and we brushed our teeth. He laughed as I practiced my ‘Mercedes Jones’ approved morning facial ritual. I giggled as he tried my SPF inclusive moisturizer. All and all, it was the most fun I had getting ready. I slathered on a little bit of gloss and did some quick eye lining to make my eyes pop.

Heading out of the bathroom, Joe was already pretty much ready. He’d pulled back his locks and thrown on a navy-blue, well loved, tee-shirt that read ‘the most important things are the hardest to say’ and khaki cargo shorts. His feet were thrust into his favorite Birkenstocks and his cross and bracelets were going on as I walked out in just a towel. He looked exquisitely himself. I was so proud of him. I crossed to the pile of clothes I had set out for the first day of the pre-orientation. My underwear was all green cotton with ivory lace details. They went on bra first then panties. I pulled on my olive-green, AMO, cotton military shorts then sat down and lotioned my legs. That chore completed, I forced myself to put on the no show, white, cushion bottom, socks I’d brought with me. I wasn’t a big fan of socks that could be seen and none of the ones with the cushiony bottoms were very successful at staying hidden. I’d have gone without any, but there was going to be a lot of walking and I didn’t need to get any blisters. I’d broken in the white and rose gold Adidas Superstar lace-up, three-stripes sneakers I was wearing that day, but really who wanted to even risk blisters for no reason. A simple linen oatmeal, notch neck tee from PST by Project Social T was thrown on over my bra. I had put on my deodorant as soon as I’d finished brushing my teeth, so the only thing I had left to put on once my clothing was all in place was my jewelry and my fragrance. A subtle spray of the ANGEL Heavenly Star Eau De Parfum by Thierry Mugler that had been my, more expensive than I’d have ever owned myself, gift from Uncle Saulie was first my rose gold and diamond Star of David necklace and a pair of smallish rose gold hoop earrings and I was finished. At least I thought I was until Joe came over and unbraided and finger combed my hair. Then I was ready to face the world. I looked good, but not so good that I didn’t feel like me. That had happened more than once since my brothers and sister had become KAMA…it would probably happen again. But I was determined that it wouldn’t be happening at school.

I stuffed my folder with the results of the four AP exams I’d taken, a hard copy of the writer’s portfolio I’d had to submit to gain entry into the exclusive Creative Writing Program, my phone and mophie power station just for backup, and my iPad into the black Burberry nylon backpack I’d gotten for Christmas that I took everywhere. Joe, being his awesome self, had packed everything he needed in his messenger bag before he’d put it in his carry on. It took him like three seconds to shove his phone and tablet into it and he was ready to go too. We made it to the lobby before seven then Joe, my parents and I waited, discussing what we wanted for breakfast until Rachael and Jacob arrived a full fifteen minutes late. There wasn’t even a need to guess, they both looked extremely sated and were blushing like beets. We didn’t say anything…not a single word. But as one we all looked down at our watches…even me, who wasn’t actually wearing one. Rachael’s blush burned even brighter, but the teasing seemed to calm Jacob’s embarrassment down a notch or three. “Hey, what can I say? I love my wife.”

Suffice it to say, rather than having a nice leisurely breakfast at someplace like the Bluebird Diner, we grabbed something from Burger King and hit the ground running. In the end, we arrived at the orientation check-in a little early. That turned out to be a good thing. Several of the people setting up were like Hudson tiny and they were trying to move big ass tables around where they wanted-slash-needed them to be. We pitched in and in no time they were able to process us and give us our student IDs. Unfortunately, after the welcome, Joe and I were put into two separate tour groups. Given our different majors, it wasn’t surprising, but it was surprisingly kind of nice. My tour guide was a very happy, very perky chick named Kelly, and I got to be as snarky and sarcastic as I usually was inside my head. It was so great. I met another student named, Chloe who was majoring in English and Journalism. We spent the entire tour riffing off each other’s sarcastic remarks and yet at the end when we played the ‘where did we see that thing’ game, we had the two highest scores…she got two more right than I did. I would have been jealous, but she was all kinds of awesome, so I rolled with it. 

Once we finished our UI Academics and Student Life Tours…and by tour, they meant two hours of us walking around and taking in the sights of the campus in our eight to ten-person group…we had an advisement group meeting, which, efficiently, was the same as our tour group. The advisement group meeting allowed us to meet with our adviser and schedule our thirty-minute meeting for the next day. that meeting would be where we picked our classes and all that jazz. Then we met back up and had lunch with all the other incoming freshmen. Joe and I introduced each other to our new friends. Joe had gotten friendly with a religious studies and computer engineering double major named Dale. Chloe and Dale actually hit it off pretty well, even if their interactions seemed completely platonic in nature. I wasn’t surprised that we’d all received invitations to the honors program meeting. Both of our tour groups were comprised of honor program students. The meeting itself was kind of boring. It pretty much just said that we’d have to work hard to make it in the elevated studies program and that a lot of people who started in the program wouldn’t graduate as part of the program.

Boring as the honors program meeting was, I did think that Dr. Katherine Diffley was a pretty awesome advisor. She had degrees from Harvard and Columbia. She’d written books and was a foremost authority on the examining the Civil War from a literary aspect rather than a political one. She was really interesting. After that, there was a meeting about the need for ethnic and cultural diversity and how everyone was enriched by a more diverse campus. At that meeting our small clique gained three more members. Asia was an incoming poli-sci, computer science double major from Cedar Rapids who looked like Beyoncé and Kelly Rowland had combined their DNA as well as they combined their voices…only taller. Asia was like six two. She was on the Lady Hawkeyes basketball team and while she was good enough to have earned a hefty scholarship, Asia Colvin was determined to become a Supreme Court Justice. It was a lofty life goal, I may have said as much. But Asia just chuckled. “You want to be a writer. So, is your dream to be E. L. James…or is your goal to be the American Jane Austen?”

I scoffed. “Okay, so yeah…I’d take James sales and movie franchise money…but I get what you meant. I hope and dream to be a writer whose works are read for generations. Not a flash in the pan who is mocked more often than not.”

“Exactly! Eventually life may temper or even change the specifics of my dream. But as long as I’m striving towards an ultimate end game…I should still end up somewhere pretty fucking awesome. Think about it…do you think that Obama would have ever become President if his dream was just to be an ambulance chaser?”

Joe smiled in understanding. “That’s smart. An ‘if you aim for heaven and miss, at least you can reach the stars’, kind of thing.”

Dean grinned too. “Okay, super smart, super deep, super cute…what do I need to know about you before I fall irrevocably in love with you? Is your morning breath actually more like morning halitosis? Do you have ugly feet? Are you cray-cray?” Dean Costas had walked over with Asia, trailing behind her like Peppy LePeu after a pretty black female cat with white paint down her back. He was a tall, affable, legacy kid whose parents were pretty high on the social and political scales in Iowa and Illinois. Like seriously, his uncle was the governor. Yet the whitest dude I’d met since I met Sam was spending every other second flirting with Asia. It was really, adorably and yet sickeningly cute.

With the two of them came a second poli-sci major who introduced herself as Kia Zimmerman. Kia was as short as Asia was tall and everything about her screamed geek. I soon realized that she was certainly smart and definitely a big sci-fi nerd, but she only seemed so awkward because of the way she was standing. Rather than trying to increase her height through posture, like Mercedes and Moms D had convinced me was a necessity for those of us who were vertically challenged. Instead, Kia stood kind of hunched over. It wasn’t until we were all at dinner later, of course we invited them and their parents to join us and ours for dinner. Anyway, at dinner I realized that Kia had some serious body shame issues. Her mother was a former Miss Indiana, who had made it to the final five in her Miss America year. The tall, thin, former pageant queen seemed to go out of her way to make Kia feel bad about her body.

Not that Kia had anything to feel bad about. Yes, she wasn’t even five feet tall, but she was thin…well except for her boobs and butt. She had inherited the curves that had won her mother her titles, just on a shorter and, overall, smaller frame. Finally, after most of the adults, including Kia’s father had tried, subtly, to discourage Debbye’s body shaming; Joe calmly looked at her. “I know someone who would tell you that there is beauty in every woman. Another person who is very dear to me would tell you that no one should be ashamed of their body as long as they are healthy and in the correct one. But I think that the words of Paul’s letter to the Thessalonians are most apt. ‘A mother tenderly cares for her children’. Are you tenderly caring for your daughter when you are shredding her confidence and her self-esteem? Are you tenderly caring for your daughter when you leave her so unsure of her own true worth, her own true beauty, that you’re opening her up for heartache, pain and abuse?”

Debbye drew herself up straighter in her seat. “Young man,” she started, causing both my mom and Rachael to get straighter too.

“Young man, you are absolutely correct.” Her husband, Robert, said vehemently before addressing his wife. “I could not have said that better myself. I’ve never been able to put into words the damage that you’ve been doing to our daughter. She has an IQ of a hundred and seventy-eight. She scored perfect scores on the SAT and ACT. She’s a national merit scholar. Never had a B in her entire life, but we’re here, not that the University of Iowa isn’t a fine school, but Kia could have gone Ivy League or at least Northwestern or Stanford. We are her because her own mother has belittled and demeaned her so often and for so long that she wouldn’t even apply for the caliber of schools that were fighting over her last year. All thanks to the fact that you couldn’t be happy with one clone. I guess I should just be happy that Kaeden was born a boy, or you might have tried to force him into your mold as well. Why can’t you be happy that we have been blessed with three amazing children and let each of them be themselves?”

“Mother, Daddy, why don’t we put this long over due conversation on hold until we get home. For God’s sake, I actually like these people and don’t want to have to make all new friends in August because I’m too ashamed to look these six in their eyes ever again.” Kia’s voice was the strongest it had been all day.

Dean came to her rescue to diffuse the tension still prevalent at the table. “So, um, don’t you guys think that the cultural diversity meeting could have been significantly shorter. I mean, all we have to do is communicate with each other and respect each other’s experiences and opinions. Boom…meeting over and done. So many of the world’s problems could be solved if we just talked to each other and shared our experiences and cultures. Like last year, an African American girl I’d known since we were in ninth grade totally went off on me just because she’d changed her hair and I asked her about it. I was curious, and she jumped down my throat when I just wanted to know more about the Black Experience.”

I just sighed and shook my head. “Okay Dean, since you seem really well intentioned, I’m going to help you out. First and fore most…a lot of Black women hold their hair as personal as they do their periods. They do not discuss it with just anybody. Second of all, Chris Rock did an hour and a half long documentary on the subject and still didn’t discuss everything there is to know about Black women’s hair. It is a huge industry and a very complicated, complex topic. If you do find someone to talk about it with, it will not be a single, quick conversation. Now, as far as the whole ‘Black Experience’ thing…Black people have as many various and different experiences as we do. Do you think that just because you, Joe and Dale are all white males of roughly the same age you’ve all had the exact same experience? No, of course you haven’t. So, why would all Black people? Yes, there are some commonalities that we may never understand and can only empathize with and support them through, but no there isn’t a single stereotypical ‘Black Experience’.

Asia, Kia and both of their mother’s gave me surprised looks of respect. “So, we won’t be your first Black friends, I take it?” Asia smirked humorously.

I shook my head without replying. Mom, however, giggled as she explained. “She has a Black brother, Jake, and a Black sister…well, technically sister-in-law, Mercedes and her full and extended family.”

Suddenly, Asia’s mother, Allison, stopped everything. “Your daughter-in-law, Merce…des…Oh my God, I thought that you two…all three of you really. I love the fact that KAMA took their parents to the AMAs. That was so sweet and the way you mothers were coordinated and yet fashionable and unique…that was really classy. You guys must be so proud of your son.” 

Dad and Mom both smiled serenely. “we’ve been pretty blessed in all our kids.” Mom told her happily.

“Even if we sometimes loose track of how many we’ve got.” Dad snickered.

Robert gave him a confused look. “How on earth do you loose track of how many children you have?”

Joe chose to answer the question since Dad seemed unable to speak over his own laughter. “Well, the Jones, Evans and Altmans have pretty much combined their family so it is nothing for one set of parents to end up with all of the children of the three families under their roof and then if you add in Puck’s daughter who lives in Lima who’s often included in that number, it really is hard to keep track.”

“That’s just lovely.” Miley Sullivan, Chloe’s mother, sighed. “Alfred and I grew up together and our parents are great friends. Its made holidays so much easier than they have been for our friends who have to juggle two separate families and all those feelings.”

Thankfully that changed the subject completely as the parents started talking about dealing with family blending. Asia’s family was blended in a completely different way than most people ever considered. She had one full brother and four half siblings from three different mothers. She did see her father at least once or twice a month, but the four mothers of his six children had made sure that the siblings all knew each other and grew up together. Chloe had a very traditional family. Just her parents, her older brother and her. Dean’s family was similar, but he had two younger siblings, one of each gender. Dale…his family was Irish Catholic huge. He was the second of nine kids and his parents were very, very, very strictly religious. I didn’t realize there was a Catholic Fundamentalist type of deal but apparently there was, and his parents were a part of it.

Personally, I was very glad that we were talking about everyone’s families, rather than just ours. I had expected to end up playing the whole ‘digging for inside gossip on the famous people’ game if anyone figured out who I was related to. But they were all very respectful of our privacy and that of Noah, Cedes and Sam. Only the pageant queen looked like she wanted to turn the conversation back to KAMA, but her family kept cutting her off at the pass. Instead the rest of dinner was spent getting to know each other and building the foundations of friendship. After dinner, the parents shooed the seven of us back to campus to attend the ‘Incomer Dessert Mixer’. While we went and ‘mixed’ with our peers, the parents went back to their hotels and chilled.

The mixer was interesting. None of us were really ‘mixer’ types of people, so there was little to no actual mixing of our group with others. Everyone took the time to introduce each other to their roommates. Though, it was at the mixer that I found out that Kia and Asia had started hanging out earlier that morning because they were each other’s roommate. They had just gotten lucky and actually like each other. Chloe did, finally, meet the girl she was going to be sharing a room with in Daum Hall, the Freshman Honors dorm. Marilyn Hicks was tall and blonde and hung out with the ladies of Delta Nu, she was a legacy for the sorority after all. On the surface they had tons in common. Both were Mid-western blonds with traditional nuclear families who were majoring in Journalism. But their differences were pretty significant too and could be summarized by evaluating their career idols. Chloe’s were Helen Thomas, Jane Pauley, Katie Couric, Meredith Viera and others of that ilk while Marilyn wanted to be the next Gretchen Carlson, Megan Kelly or Deborah Norville. Suffice it to say, Chloe was pretty sure that they would never be close.

Even though he was a freshman, Dean had managed to lad a single. I wasn’t surprised that he could afford to have one, I was just shocked that he was lucky enough to get one. Those bad boys were rarer than white rhinos or angel sharks. Dale had met his roommate that morning and they’d agreed to just live and let live. Karl Mitchell Dennis was a nice enough guy when we met him. He was, according to Dale, a gamer and sci-fi nerd. Not a problem for Dale at all, the problem came in when dealing with Karl’s extremely introverted nature. Karl was so shy he couldn’t even say hello to all of us…he just waved and his behind his long brown hair. Kia, despite her own self-esteem issues, or perhaps because of them, refused to let him languish in his hidden nook. He later told us that she reminded him a little of his mother, she would never let him hide from the world at social functions either. Karl wasn’t a bad looking guy. Only about five-ten an a little puffy where Joe and Dean were pretty cut, and Dale was actively lanky, Karl was cute. He was a computer programming, engineering and design triple major and an honor program student. I decided to follow Kia’s example. Not just because I understood introversion and shyness, but because the guy was a certified genius that had three first names. If he became a serial killer, I wanted to not be on his prospective victim list.

The mixer had good desserts at least. It was over by ten because a lot of us had our one on one advisory meeting the following morning. Joe and I talked about those we’d met and why we’d glommed onto those we had. We both agreed that Chloe, Asia, Kia, Dale, Dean and Karl had felt like they were meant to be our people. Of course, he didn’t like my internal joke about Karl’s future as a serial killer…but I did enjoy the spanking he gave me to show his feelings on my wrongdoing. We spent the entire night in one bed. I, again, wore my ivory pajama set but Joe only wore his pajama pants. It was more than lovely spending the night in his arms.

The next morning didn’t start as early. We woke up at six-thirty, shared a leisurely shower before turning on the television and finding the music channel to listen to as we got dressed. BET was playing Colorblind, so we left it there as we went through our ablutions. We met the parents at half past eight in the lobby dressed more for a meeting with adults than all the touring of the day before. Joe was not comfortable at all in charcoal heather, chino slacks and a tourmaline teal, well-fitted polo shirt. Man, a lot of people would assume that Joe’s body wouldn’t be as fit as it is. They assume that since he’s so religious and non-confrontational, that he wouldn’t have the pecs and abs and forearms of a Greek demi-god…but oh my Yeshiva, he definitely did. He even had really nice feet. Which was good because he hated covering them. The dark gray suede Birkenstocks were much more in his usual vein. His left wrist was home to his usual combination of leather and wooden bead bracelets while his right was covered in his silver Timex watch. He only wore it because it had been a gift from his great-grandmother…Gammy Bee was Joe’s favorite adult in the whole wide world. He thought she hung the moon and the feeling was completely mutual. She thought that he should wear a nice watch to important meetings, even if he didn’t wear one any other time. So of course, he wore it that day. With his locs pulled back and braided, he looked very handsome and I was proud to walk by his side.

We had a nice breakfast at the restaurant in the hotel. And then headed to the campus. The parents were going to go to the Information Fair while Joe and I had our meetings. Since mine was earlier than his, Joe walked me to the English Philosophy building before making his way to Gilmore Hall for his own meeting. I found my way to Dr. Diffley’s office fairly easily. I was a little early, so I had to wait for a while. Those of us we were waiting were seated on benches in the hallway. I noticed that the other young lady who was waiting was dressed as if for a job interview. I looked down at my green printed ruched, silk dress with its small ivory dots, the cropped denim jacket and pale blush espadrilles I was wearing and wondered if I was underdressed or if she was overdressed. My neckline was high, and I’d covered my sleeveless shoulders and arms with the denim jacket. The dress went down to below my knees and was quite conservative. I’d dressed the kind of casual look up with a pair of gold hoops with dangly bits hanging down from the hoops which hung from pretty gold posts. I wore my graduation gift; a gold bracelet watch that had a square malachite face. I felt confident and prepared, though I had to admit Bubbie had been right when she said that I should have brought a tan or beige bag to go with that outfit. Aw well, it wasn’t a huge deal and the black Burberry bag did have tan flap closures.

When I was called in, Dr. Diffley immediately asked me what my ultimate goals were. “I hope to become a published author. I am very interested in both non-fiction and fiction writing. I do enjoy prose and poetry, though prose is more of my wheelhouse. I’ve worked on my school newspaper and literary magazine and spent my senior year as editor of both.”

She nodded. “I see. Unfortunately, that does little to set you apart from the pack. Many of your peers have also done so. What have you done to prepare to achieve your goals?”

I actually had a moment of questioning myself. I mean, I thought that working on the newspaper and literary magazine was preparing myself to achieve my goals. But I wasn’t going to say that to her. “I’ve studied exhaustively and graduated with a high GPA. I’ve achieved fours and even a five on five AP exams including Research, English Literature and Composition, and Psychology. I have volunteered at a local family shelter for the last eighteen months or so. I have spent this summer touring the nation as part of the road crew for KAMA which is opening me up to new experiences and meeting all different types of people. I’ve gained cash handling and inventory management experience to add to my skill set. I also type sixty-five words a minute and am fluent in Spanish.” Thank God for Santana Lopez and my own inherent nosiness. I’d only been conversant in the language until listening to one of her rants made me pay a hell of a lot more attention to Mr. Martinez. Of course, becoming his kid’s aunt probably had something to do with my fluency too.

“Those are all great strides, towards broadening your horizons and giving you invaluable experience from which to draw. But have you done any writing for an outside audience? Has anyone outside Lima, Ohio ever read something you’ve written.” She prodded.

I felt my face go up in flames. I didn’t know if she knew…but something told me that she totally knew my deepest, darkest…most hidden, not even Joe, Jake, Cedes or my parents knew…secret; and between the five of them they knew everything else about me. “Well,” I cleared my throat and forced myself to continue. “I’ve dabbled in fanfiction. I post online.”

“Interesting, which fandom?” Dr. Diffley said reasonably.

“Wait, you think that’s a good thing?” I gawped. There was no other word adequate to express my surprised expression.

Dr. Diffley smiled. “Yes, fanfiction writing can be very good training in writing for the public, editing one’s self and in character and plotline development. However, it is best examined through a careful lens and with a discerning eye. Now…which fandom do you prefer?”

“I’ve written stories for Pride and Prejudice, Mortal Instruments, Percy Jackson, and Hunger Games.” I confessed.

“Good.” She made a note on her computer. I wasn’t sure about the rest of the campus, but Dr. Diffley seemed to be pretty paperless. “I won’t ask your pseudonym, but can you give me a rough estimate of the number of views of your most and least popular stories?”

“I’m not sure about views, I would have to log on to check that. But my most reviewed story has over thirteen hundred reviews…my least reviewed has just under sixty.” I answered honestly. I had stopped counting the views long time ago. I’d gotten obsessed trying to figure out why there were so many more views than reviews.

Dr. Diffley nodded. “That demonstrates a significant readership. The truth of the matter is that, typically, every reviewer represents at least ten readers who did not leave their opinion. So, you should feel proud of your accomplishment.”

“Umm…thank you.” I finally said. I was still a little bit confused. Most people looked down on people who read fanfiction, let alone those who write it.

“Tessa, we are writers. For a writer, it is an imperative written into our DNA to write. Any medium that allows us to write for people other than ourselves is to be, at least, moderately valued. You are alive in a wonderful time for authors. We now have avenues to have our turns of phrase read than ever before; self-publishing, blogs, online writer communities…they are all great mediums that were not available when I was your age. I always suggest that my students take full advantage of as many of those avenues as they can.” She told me with an encouraging smile.

That seemed to close out the ‘encouragement’ portion of our appointment and then we knuckled down to the schedule planning portion of events. I pulled out my spreadsheet and showed her the classes and times I’d selected…at least my top choices. Joe and I had carefully gone through the core requirements and the course catalogue and plotted out our freshman year to our satisfaction. “My hope is to concentrate on the core requirement classes this year, get at least eight of them out of the way, then next year, start to sprinkle in my major courses…” I told her in what I hoped was a decisive and firm manner, but probably came out sounding like a question or a request for validation.

“That is a good way to handle things. Usually those who have their major decided upon entry want to hit the ground running and find themselves scurrying their senior year to make sure they’ve filled all the core classes. Now then, as you have qualified for the Honors program, you will need to take an honors seminar. This semester they are offered on Tuesday or Thursday afternoons. Which would be your preference?” I shot Joe a quick text, hoping that we could get into the same seminar.

“Thursday would work.” I said as soon as Joe responded.

She typed that into the system and we focused in on building the rest of my schedule. The very first class I wanted to take was called Rhetoric ten-thirty. It was an entry level class that was pretty strongly suggested for every freshman. One of those ‘how to think and reason’ classes. “Okay, now there is a Rhetoric class that focuses in on written rhetoric. For my advisees, I actually suggest that they take both. The general rhetoric class can be great for certain aspects of character development, while the other one is almost a necessity for any person who wants to be an author or a journalist. But that would be something that you would take at a later time.”

I made a note of her suggestion and decided to see if it could be fit in the following semester. My AP tests meant that I was starting off at something of an advantage. I wouldn’t need to take freshman English, Psych one oh one or US History. I’d also managed to fulfill my entire World Language requirement…but I explained that I hoped to take Latin. She was easily able to slip me into the Latin language tract, but I wouldn’t have my first class in that one until the following fall as it wasn’t being offered that particular year. I was able to get my Quantitative or Formal Reasoning requirement filled with my preferred, Intro to Critical Thinking class. Dad, Mom, Saul and Mills all suggested that I look into fulfilling the ‘math’ requirement without having to take an actual math class. I hated math with a fierce and fiery passion, so I listened to that suggestion happily. At that point, I had two, technically, three Tuesday-Thursday classes. Dr. Diffley said that that was enough. “The twice weekly classes are seventy-five minutes long. That means that you’ve got a hundred and fifty minutes of instructional time on Tuesday and two hundred and twenty-five on Thursday. Ideally, you should give yourself an hour per class for out of class study time per day. That brings your Thursday to almost seven hours of ‘class’ time. That should be enough for the day to day and give you a realistic expanded schedule during midterms and finals. What classes do you have for Monday, Wednesday and Friday?”

“The creative writing freshman workshop…it gives me a creative outlet and it satisfies a core requirement.”

“You do realize that technically, you don’t need that class for your major and your skills already exceed the levels they hope to achieve in the class?” She asked me thoughtfully.

I nodded. “Yes, but it fills the literary, visual, and performing arts core requirement and if what you say is true it can pad my GPA a bit just in case of a future bad class.” I told her honestly, even as my face flamed.

She just laughed. “There is nothing wrong with taking a few classes that you are sure will add a few points to the GPA, you just don’t want to get stuck in the mindset that the easier the classes the better.”

I agreed with that wholeheartedly. “Next up, is Western Civ. My preference is for the after lunch class, but I’m okay with the two forty-five section too.” I replied.

She looked at her computer and the classes for which I had already registered. “You fit in the one thirty section.” Her lips were compressed in a proximity of a smile as she decided on something. “You’re an honors student and I believe that you have both the drive and the intellect to handle a more rigorous course load. You are a traditional student who’s not planning to work during the school year. I do not believe that would be overly stressed if you added a fifth class. In fact, I recommend it highly.”

I gave it some thought. “Maybe I should wait until second semester to try and exceed expectations?”

The woman on the other side of the desk smirked. “I believe that the exact opposite is true. You should begin as you mean to go forward. You are already an over achiever. You admittedly studied for and sat for five AP exams. You did that at the same time you were running both your school paper and its literary magazine as well as competing on two different national championship competition teams. Only having classes three or four hours every day should be positively relaxing. However, you also need to look towards your next steps…with a rigorous schedule, which you can still manage even adding study time and extracurriculars to the what, eighteen-nineteen hours of in class time per week. With that schedule and a good list of determinative activities, you would be a shoo-in for any graduate school of your choosing.”

I was still a little worried about it. Then I remembered Noah, Cedes and Sam all had five classes…and that was just at Columbia…they still had three or four classes at Juilliard on top of everything else that they had going on. I said as much to Dr. Diffley. “So, I researched these four classes to find the sections and times I wanted…I have a couple of alternates, but, none that would work in with the schedule we’ve gotten pieced together.” I took a second to pull up a different spreadsheet on my iPad. “I do have a list of the core requirements and the classes I hope to take to fulfill them.” I offered showing the table to my advisor and pointed out my favorite one.

“I always encourage my Caucasian advisees to take and African American Studies class. It can only open their eyes to the differences in how we all experience this experiment called America. But I’m not sure that you would benefit from it in the same way other Caucasian students do.” I looked at her in surprise. I didn’t think college professors paid attention to things like celebrity family gossip. “Your principal sent in a copy of the essay series you wrote about your step-brother’s experience with those mall security officers and your, well, in-laws, lack of surprise at what happened. Your examination of how their anger seemed tempered by a sense of relief and, what seems to my untrained eye to be, a case of survivor’s guilt. It was thoughtful and thought provoking. I agree with Ms. Sylvester that it would have certainly have won the Junior Pulitzer Scholarship. As you do not have a need for financial aid, I suppose I understand not wanting to take the money but you would have deserved the accolades and recognition.”

I may have given her a disbelieving look, but it was well deserved. “Did you read the winning essay series? It was written by the son of a solider that was killed in Afghanistan. The dude examined both the geo-political and real life cost of the wages and horrors of fourteen years of war. There was no way that wasn’t winning…and not even just on the merits, he got them on the emotional side too.”

That earned me a very Samantha Jones, Ruth Mayzer, Susan Sylvester type look of disapproval mixed with a very Danica and Mercedes Jones type look of ‘girl you’d best to listen to the words that I say next and take them as a life lesson’. “Miss Altman, Tessa, we, as women, must find a balance between self-deprecation and confidence. Men are very quick to label us with some very harsh terms if they even think we are arrogant. However, despite that, every woman needs to believe in herself, because if she doesn’t…no one else will.”

I decided to take her words to heart. I also took a second look at the classes that filled the diversity and inclusion requirement. With my first idea shot down pretty nicely, I went to my second choice. “I’m good with Diversity in History.” That one was shot down because all four sections of it were already filled. Finally I was placed in an eight-thirty disability and inclusion in film and writing around the world class that I hoped and prayed would include something more modern than Rear View Window or A Christmas Carol.

She printed out the course selections and I signed off on them, as did she, and that was pretty much the end of the meeting. Joe and I met up and compared our schedules for the coming semester. We’d lucked out and had two classes and the honor’s seminar together. As we were talking I got a text from Asia telling me that she and Kia were done with their advisement meetings and had both gotten into the Thursday Honors seminar and were wondering what our schedules looked like. Soon we were getting similar texts from Dean and Dale. I quickly created a group text and said that we were in the Thursday afternoon section and we could wait to share info until lunch. They all agreed, and we set up a meeting spot near the dining hall where the final orientation luncheon would be taking place. Joe and I headed to the information fair, where we ran into our parents all of whom were collecting information about parents’ weekend and homecoming and other things the school thought all parents needed to know.

Joe and I took a leisurely look through the fair ourselves. There were over five hundred different student organizations, clubs, sororities and fraternities available on campus. The ranged from the expected like the sports teams, the Greek organizations and the student government associations. But there were also book clubs, the literary magazines and a whole host of religious and faith-based organizations. We grabbed the information from the ones that interested us. We skipped the banks and credit card stands. I’d received a credit card in my name with a ten-thousand-dollar limit shortly after Easter. In an effort to teach me smart credit habits, I was responsible to pay off half of everything I put on the card every month. That was more than enough credit card for me. Joe’s family didn’t really believe in using credit cards. His parents had one that was only used for emergencies and paid off as quickly as they possibly could. He assumed that eventually he would need to get one, so he could begin to build his credit, but it wasn’t of a major concern that particular weekend.

We took the time that most of our soon to be classmates were embroiled in a long discussion on financial aid and things like Stafford versus Private loans and grants and scholarships and such, to go and see our house. It was not all that far from campus. It was a short drive or a long walk away from the English building. The house wasn’t huge, nor was it tiny. It had a red siding exterior and I was enough of my father’s daughter to realize that the siding was brand new as was the gray, slate shingle roof. The gutters, windows, shutters, front door and garage door had all been replaced too. They were the same deeper than dove but lighter than steel, gray as the roof. The first thing I thought looking at it was that it looked cozy…and kind of had a ‘me’ vibe to it. I didn’t realize it, but Mom had arranged for the decorator, Renee Funderburk, to meet us at the house and we were able to see the design and changed up floor plans and everything. “Now the house already had a fully finished basement, including a laundry room and when the house was purchased they left the washer and dryer down there. It was older and they just decided to replace them rather than move them. Now that was left alone as we renovated the rest of the basement and changed out the furnace, main hot water heater and HVAC. We also created a large, fully functional home gym and what Ms. Jones called Joe’s prayer closet…though Mr. Evans called it his study. The house was purchased for a steal and had impeccable bones…so we gutted it down to those bones and built it out from there. It has all new electrical and plumbing. Completely up to modern codes. We deepened the garage to run the full length of the house, so it is now a two-car garage, just not in the usual sense of the term. The first floor is completely open concept. You enter at the family room and see straight through to the back. The house doesn’t have a huge back yard, but there is a lot of room on the side opposite the garage, so that’s where we gave you some outdoor living space.” She told us as she led us through the floorplans. “The only walls enclose the stairs, the powder room and the pantry.”

She continued once we nodded our understanding at the floor plan, and Dad finished grilling her on the support of the second floor. “The second floor, the master suite is in the back, Tessa, that’s slated to be yours. Joe’s bedroom is almost exactly the same size, it just doesn’t have an ensuite bathroom and has a longer, slim closet rather than a walk-in closet like the master. The third bedroom has been designated as a study, mainly for Tessa.” She showed us a few of her design choices. She had made her decisions based on Bubbie and Hudson’s recommendations and information like color preferences and style ideals. I was good with most of the choices she made for my areas. I did ask her, for a small change. “Since we don’t have an actual guest room or third bedroom, can you change the chair and half accent chairs in my study to the kind with pull out twin beds?” The living room sofa was already a convertible, too so that would give us some room for company. I was mainly thinking about study sessions that went too late, but the parents said it was a good idea for when they came to visit with our younger siblings. She agreed to make the change and made a note on her Surface.

Joe was a lot more opinionated on interior design than one would have expected. He had a metric shit ton of questions and changes. Renee allowed him his way on everything…except his bed. He’d spent his whole life on an extra-long twin, so he felt that a full was more than enough. He truly didn’t care about the caveats Sam and Noah had given the designer or the fact that I had a queen. Ultimately, he didn’t win that battle. In fact, he lost it so completely that he almost ended up with a California King just because Renee was getting angry with him. It was kind of funny. They finally settled on a regular king bed. Like Renee had previously selected. Our design walk through was completed when she told us, “we saved all the original crown molding, baseboards and other trim woodwork and it will be put back in and painted. It wasn’t to save money, it was simply because they are just not making molding like that anymore and it was too gorgeous not to revitalize and reutilize.” A few months later, after the rest of the tour, we found out that she was perfectly truthful.

The rest of the afternoon flew by after our meeting with Renee and then lunch with our U of I crew and their parents. We rejoined the tour in Charleston that same night and time raced by. We kept in almost constant contact with Chloe, Asia, Kia, Dale, Karl and Dean. Asia joined us at the Cleveland concert as our guest. Kia joined us in Chicago…that was a HUGE night for our friends. I was so damn happy for Que and James that it wasn’t even funny. We saw Dean in Des Moines, Chloe in Wichita and Dale in Denver. We’d have seen Karl in Seattle, but we were all back in Iowa City by the time the tour hit that stop. The whole moving to college thing was pretty fun. Bubbie talked me into and helped me to be able to afford a brand-new Outback and the Moms and I had a blast getting all my clothes that had been bought over the course of the summer, or worn on the tour, all cleaned, organized and packed. The Dads, Jake and Stevie loaded it all into my Outback.

Joe and I had decided that we would pack up separately and then meet up just for the drive. Jacob was driving with him while Rachael was going to fly with my mom. Daddy, Dad, was driving with me…well, actually he was going to drive the seven hours. I could have done it, and there was a chance that I would take over at some point, but Dad thought that I drove like a little old woman on Sunday morning and hated driving on the highway with me. I couldn’t fault him for it. Just looking at driving styles, if Dad was alone in the car, it would be easy for people to assume that he had actual DNA input in both Puck and Jake. Bats out of hell behind the wheel, all three of them. If school hadn’t started before Mom and Dad were scheduled to be back, I’d have probably taken Jake with us. We hadn’t really done all that much school stuff without the other since his mom had shoved her head so far up her own ass that she could somehow lick her uvula. It was going to be weird not to see him in between every class and in the ones we shared. I was pretty sure that Jake was having a similar realization himself. The nerves didn’t hit me until after the Twins and Beth and Sloane had all presented me with great artwork for my study walls. That was when the ‘oh my GOD’s’ started to out weight the ‘Oh My Gods’ and yes they were entirely different.

There had been a huge family dinner Sunday evening, a birthday party for Sarah and a going away party for me. I made sure that it was mainly about Sarah, but our family wouldn’t let it rest that I was leaving the next morning. I got to meet Stacey’s Savia. I wasn’t surprised when Stacey came out to the family. She was not as subtle in her checking of other girls as she probably thought she was. Savia was a cutie…kind of quiet around others, but she gave me the idea that she wasn’t so quiet when she was comfortable. I also met KC Lopez, I was pretty sure that Dad and Jake didn’t notice it, but he was looking at Sarah like he wasn’t just stripping her with his eyes, but completely deflowering her with the hazley-brown orbs. The kid was cute though and Sarah…she was looking at KC like he was a life-sized Godiva chocolate version of himself and she was going to eat him all the way up.

The next morning, we were up before there was even a morning. Seriously, I did not consider three am to be morning. As far as I was concerned, it was still a big part of the night before. I was so glad that we’d packed the car before the party. I was ridiculously glad that Dad was going to be driving. We met Joe and Jacob at the BP on the way to I-Eighty. Gas tanks were filled, ‘breakfast’ and snacks were purchased and we managed to get on the road by four. There was a stop somewhere in Illinois that Jacob found on a half way point website. We had a real breakfast at a place called the Blueberry Hill Breakfast Café. Their triple berry pancakes were the best thing ever. Joe and I made it a point to add that place to our Waze app so we could hit it every time we were going back and forth to school. We arrived at the house a little before eleven thirty. Entering the living room, I couldn’t help but let out a sigh of contentment. It looked like a grown-up space, but with tweaks and touches to make it youthful.

I kind of loved the couch. The floors were awesome a warm, rich tone hardwood. The furniture was modern and I loved it. I was glad to see the fireplace, I loved them. There was nothing like having hot chocolate in front of a fire on a snowy day. I probably could have lived without the big ass television above it. I loved movies and even some TV shows, but I wasn’t a huge fan of them in the living room. But then again, in a house of that size there wasn’t another room to put it. The dining room set was directly beyond the living room furniture. While the orientation of the living room seemed to focus my eyes on the fireplace, the dining room pulled my eyes to the antique silver, super contemporary, chandelier above the large, eight seater medium tone wood table and matching chairs with their much lighter brown, almost the same shade as the paint on the wall, upholstery. The table, chairs and a complementary but not exactly matching sideboard were all of the same, natural oak finish. I was a little surprised to see that, after the careful matching of the hard furniture in the living room and the dining room, the kitchen was connected mainly by sharing the same floors and some of the touches. The island and cabinets were WHITE…that was going to be hell to keep clean. The counter tops were charcoal soapstone. The appliances were all present and accounted for in their stainless steel elegance. The fridge looked kind of huge to me.

Even as we looked through the first floor on the way upstairs, I tried to notice what we would need. Like we definitely wouldn’t need any throw pillows or throw blankets. Or rugs. I loved the way she blended the pops of teal, red, copper and purple throughout the entire space. The beiges would have gotten boring without them. The first floor half bath was so very white. It was crisp and clean and would have to be kept meticulously clean, but given the small space, the white on white design made sense to me. The risers of the stairs were not carpeted…I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. I said as much to Dad and he smirked. “I can put in a runner down those in a couple of hours. I’ll make it fit with the rest of the rugs down here.” He ruffled my hair. I hated that and yet I knew I would miss it.

We took the first load of totes up to our bedrooms. In fact most of what we brought with us had to go straight up or down the stairs to either our bedrooms or our studies. It probably didn’t surprise anyone that I had more clothes than Joe did, but very few people would have realized that he had like three times more hair care products than I did. His dreads were way more high maintenance than most people ever realized. I took a peak into his bathroom and was kind of worried that he didn’t have enough storage. Jacob said the same thing. “Okay, who wants to man the list?”

“What list?” I asked stupidly.

Dad chuckled. “Oh it’s gonna be more than one. Right now in my head there is your Amazon list, my Home Depot list, there’s gotta be a Target or Sprawl-Mart list, and at least a rudimentary grocery list…When your mothers get here, they’ll be able to answer that question better than I can.”

“Yuck, shopping. Maybe I could have pulled off living in a dorm after all.” I muttered.

Even Joe laughed at me. The worst part was that when the moms arrived a little while later, they thought it was just as funny. It was sad, really, how little faith in me my parents, siblings and boyfriend had in me. The mothers also proved Dad correct. They took over the list thinking and making. We stuck to the manual labor of getting our things unpacked and put away. It actually turned out to be a great division of labor. While Joe and I unpacked our totes, suitcases, and other bags and boxes, Mom and Rachael had taken Joe’s Patriot to the mall to get the things for their ‘Downstairs & Basement Needs’ list. Dad and Jacob had a more comprehensive list…but one that only needed stops at one or two stores to fill. Their list was for anything that Joe would need to keep the house maintained as well as some furniture pieces, like some more bathroom storage for Joe’s bathroom and shelving for the upstairs laundry room.

Unpacking my clothes and shoes and such gave me the perfect opportunity to check out my bedroom. I loved the bed. It was the perfect size, big enough for a decent starfish but not so big that I’d feel all lonely. It had three recessed shelves in the headboard and they looked like they would be the perfect spots for my iPad and phone, not to mention writing utensils and notebooks for when inspiration struck. I tested the mattress and it was really good too…soft but not so soft I sunk into it and couldn’t get up with out rolling to the edge…but firm enough to have a good bounce to it. there were some who might have felt it was a little too firm, but Renee had made up for the slight over-firmness with a mountain of fluffy pillows. Like all of the pillows, even a ‘husband’ one that would be perfect for typing or reading in bed. I really liked the comforter set, which was a herd of butterflies of a vast array of teal, purples, blues and reds on a white background. But I would have liked it more in the summer or spring. Thankfully, Renee had foreseen the need for seasonal bedding…a need I’d not really thought of until the Moms had taught me about said need. There were two other comforters and accompanying accoutrements, including all the trappings like sheets, bed skirts, and all the necessary pillow cases and shams in different under bed storage containers. 

Move-in day passed in a blur of unpacking, organizing and cleaning. The whole experience was an experiment in efficient delegation of responsibilities. The parents were on a MAJOR time crunch. They only had forty-eight in town with us and wanted to help us get all set up and moved in and attend the parents’ events before they left. But Mom had to get back to her classes. Dad had a business to run. Jacob had to get back to his day job and he always used up a lot of his vacation time making sure that he was as active a father as possible for his children. There was also the fact that some days the commute to the Lexis-Nexis office in Dayton had to be too much for even a laid-back soul like Jacob to bear. Rachael needed to get home to her remaining five kids at home. Mary was watching them while their parents were taking care of Joe, but even though Mary had become a much better human being…she just wasn’t ready to handle home schooling her younger siblings. She was also tired a lot over the last couple of weeks, for a very good reason. It was weird. Mary and Josiah, her husband, had been trying to conceive since they got married. It just hadn’t happened for them. then suddenly, after she finally got her head out of her ass and helped Unique through her recovery…much to everyone’s relief including Josiah…Mary had found out that she was pregnant. The whole family was very happy for her.

So, the parental units made sure that Joe and I had everything unpacked, opened, washed and put away or ordered and scheduled to arrive sooner rather than later. Then they went and got cleaned up and took Joe and I out for dinner. We used that same time, after realizing that we had amazing water pressure, to check in with our friends. Their move-ins had gone well or were still undergoing. Besides, we all agreed that we’d meet up after our parents headed home. Give them proper goodbyes. To be honest, it all felt very surreal at the same time…but it quickly became our new normal. We created something of a schedule for our lives. We called our parents at least twice a week. Okay, I called Mom and Dad once a week and I called Hell-Bent and Moms D once a week and I called Angel Mom and Sandman once a week. Joe’s Gammy Bee got her own weekly call as did MeMaw, Bubbie and Grandma Mae. The Elder Sibs were in constant contact via texts, emails, Jake and I talked whenever the mood struck us. As long as we weren’t in classes or extracurriculars, we would call or text if we had something to share. Saul and Mills checked in with me about once a month and my dad’s parents and I e-mailed a lot.

It still was a pretty big secret from Dad, but over the summer they had sold their townhouse in Florida and bought a much smaller condo. They were using the difference to buy a cute little house in Lima. They planned to spend the spring and summer in Lima and then live in Florida during the winter. Once they had wrapped their heads around our new family dynamic, they had realized that they had a lot more than one grandchild. That made them both really happy and more determined than ever to take advantage of all the love. They had bonded not just with Sarah, who loved any additional grandparental attention, they’d bonded with Jake, Stevie and Stacey too. Thinking about it, I was pretty sure that my Grandmother would want to steal Double A-S if she could. The weirdest thing was that by the time they had left after graduation, Mom said that they were looking years younger than they had when they got there.

While we were sitting in the Fort Lauderdale airport during our layover, Joe and I talked about our first month of school had gone. It had been pretty interesting. I was so happy with the way three of my classes built all on each other and worked together, I could have plotzed. Heck, some of the books I needed to read for my Rhetoric class were the same ones I needed to read for my Western Civ, and a few were read for both of those and for my Critical Thinking class. Joe’s classes weren’t quite as intertwined, but he was loving his intro psych class and his music class. He really didn’t love our Rhetoric class as much as I did, but then again, he had three heavy reading classes that didn’t share materials, so I got it. We’d also cemented out friendships with Asia, Chloe, Dale, Dean, Karl and Kia. We created study groups within our classes, and for those we shared with our friends, all eight of us were the study group. A kind of stressed out Joe had talked me into hosting a Labor Day BBQ. I had to put serious limits on him, because he never saw all the movies that showed how out of control college parties could get. So, we limited the invite list to our five peeps and Karl, with whom we all shared the honors seminar, and a couple of other people from each of our other classes. Thankfully, Dean totally showed why we counted himself as our friend. He insisted to bring the ‘fixins’ for the burgers and hotdogs. I didn’t think to ask him what that meant. My assumption was that he would bring ketchup, mustard…maybe some mayonnaise. Apparently, what it meant to Dean was cole slaw, chili, shredded cheese and diced onions for hot dogs and lettuce…like three different kinds…tomatoes, sliced onions, pickles, sliced cheese and bacon. He even brought a jar of some knock off special sauce.

The Dads had gotten into an argument at Lowes not about whether our patio needed a grill, after Commune and their friends had had to go and get a grill themselves to host a party to welcome their tenants, my Dad was positive that it was a necessity. So, their argument wasn’t about need of grill, it was actually more about the about type of grill. They finally decided to get a grill that had both a charcoal side and a propane side. So, while Dean brought the ‘fixins’ for the meats. Joe and I provided the hotdogs, Hebrew Nationals from Sprawl-Mart, and premade hamburger patties from Lucky’s Market nearby and the charcoal and propane for the grill. We also provided the chips and dips and I got a crockpot and made a huge batch of Angel Mom’s buffalo chicken dip. Kia and Dale volunteered to provide sodas and other non-alcoholic drinks, Asia brought ice and Karl brought buns. Joe manned the hot dogs on the charcoal side of the grill and Dale manned the hamburgers on the propane side. It wasn’t a big party, but we had a great time.

Despite my misgivings about the TV above the fireplace, it was actually a great way to chill out and watching some of the movies from the Disabilities in Film and Writing class encouraged serious discourse. It also led to us watching Scary Movie Two, which lead to us almost peeing ourselves laughing. I may have been a white girl from Manhattan, but Brenda Meeks was definitely my spirit guide. Joe and I laughed about some of our new friends’ reactions to the movies as we flew from Florida to Barbados. Hell, if we really wanted to laugh we could just think about their reactions to the fact that we got to take a mini vacation to the Caribbean and be in a music video. It had been hilarious. The video part wasn’t all that exciting to me. It was something to do to help my brothers and sister out. But having time to be with the family, away from school, and what had to be the smallest town of a big city ever created…it was worth everything.

It turned out that it was a good thing that the main thing I wanted to do was to see my family and talk to everyone face to face because given all the time spent filming the video, we barely got to go to the beach. Well, go to the beach for fun. We were in beautiful white outfits, singing, dancing and playing in the sugar sand of Brandons Beach. But it was a whole lot of hurry up and wait too. The way the filming ran, they grouped us together by family, kinship, relationship and friendship groups. While we were with each group, we sang and danced along to the song. Basically, we contextualized all the groups and pairings that one should be able to guarantee would stand by them and have their back no matter what. It was pretty epic if very unsubtle. Our days belonged to Dave Meyers, but our nights were our own. As soon as we showered off the beach that Saturday evening, I dragged him to dinner at the Marina Bar and Restaurant. While we weren’t old enough to drink in the States, we were both over the drinking age in Barbados. Plus, we were on vacation and it was a really nice restaurant, so we each had wine with our meal. I learned that, while I’d enjoyed champagne in the past, me and wine were not going to have a relationship. I didn’t much care for the taste and it didn’t much care for my body. I got so nauseous after we got back to our rooms, I never wanted to bother with that stuff ever again. Fortunately, it didn’t show much and Sunday morning, I was made camera ready easily.

Noah, Cede and Sam treated the entire family, plus all their team, crew and staff to lunch at a great ‘locals must have told them about it’ restaurant called Mustor’s. the food was amazing, and a good time was had by all. But it was also very bittersweet. I didn’t want let go of my family again. But soon I had no choice in the matter, they flew back to Ohio, New York or Atlanta and Joe and I flew back to Iowa. Man, growing up was exciting and all…but it sucked major ass some times too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear Readers,   
> I apologize for the long wait between updates. I've had a very, very eventful last couple of months. A promotion at work that was unexpected is certainly something to be celebrated, but I've only just begun to be able to say I'm finished digging out from under the mess left behind by my predecessor.   
> Additionally, I'm working on buying a single family home...the fear of yard work was finally overshadowed by the worst neighbors EVER!!!
> 
> All that being said, I hope that I can get back on a once a week schedule, but even if I am not able to do so as quickly as I would like, I promise not to go longer than a month with out posting the next chapter. 
> 
> Thank you for your patience and for still checking for this world we've built.   
> TTFN,   
> Anni


	7. Heart Like Mine (Miranda Lambert) & We Are Young (Fun feat. Janelle Monáe)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ****THANKS to everyone who has taken the time to review! Your encouragement helps more than you know!****  
> Thank all of you for being avid readers & reviewers of my stories:  
> I appreciate all of you.
> 
> Boredom Busting Fic Rec  
> Darcy, I Shrunk the Avengers by emma98 (MCU Fic)
> 
> Dedicated to: linntherese, MsLadythankyouverymuch, ericasfandom & JJBelle Thank you all for continuing to let me know that you’re still reading & still care about this work.

Chapter 7

Heart Like Mine (Miranda Lambert)  
Mercedes PoV

I wasn’t sure what Sam and Noah did to cope with our crazy lives, other than making out and making love as often as humanly possible, but I’d found that the only way I could truly manage our scheduling situation was to establish and live by a pretty strict routine. Unfortunately, our routine from the time we got back to New York all the way through until right before Thanksgiving included little to no down time as our weekends were dedicated to the final dates of the tour. The weekdays weren’t all that much better either. They all consisted of very early mornings and very late nights. I was so very thankful that I didn’t have any eight o’clock classes that semester. Even more so after we got back from Puerto Rico and our routine was augmented with the addition of our new personal trainer. Derek Morgan…or Desmond Moss…was ridiculously dedicated considering that it was just a cover job. Then again, Riker always said that when it came to maintaining a cover, she had to be all in or the cover would fail.

Still, He had all of us up at six every morning. Literally, all of us. The only people left Un-Mossed in the brownstone during our morning exercise were Nikki and Bautista. After our warm ups, we ran for a mile out and then had to do these interval sprints and jogs the long way back. But that wasn’t all, after we returned from the run, we then spent thirty minutes doing weights or counter weights before we finished with thirty minutes of yoga for our cool down. By the end of all of that, I was tired before my day even started. The new exercise program wasn’t just messing up my sleep, it was also cutting into my morning beauty routine. That first day of classes after the Puerto Rico weekend, I dressed down for real. I wore a pair of dark wash, lined jeggings, a thigh length, navy blue, fitted hoodie and a pair of super comfortable, blue and pink Sketcher sneakers. I got some looks, because that day I looked like a much more typical college kid where I usually looked like a Diva. I’d put in some effort, but the bare minimum. Even my makeup was sparse. I’d put on my moisturizer, BB cream, and concealer, but then I just slid on some eyeliner and mascara and some rose gold lip gloss and rolled on through. We all made our first classes on time…possibly because, other than Artie and Sam we didn’t have very early classes on Mondays.

I had to admit, as much as I hated him, I kind of loved Derek Morgan. He didn’t treat Artie any different from any of the rest of us. Yeah, some of the exercises we did, he modified to actually benefit Artie. Like when we did the sprinting, he had Artie doing some version of arm exercises while he pushed the wheelchair so Artie could keep up with us while still working out. When we were in the workout room, he taught Artie some things to work his core while seated. I also had to give him credit, he sent Brittany and Kurt to her dance studio to do a more dance based morning workout, but he’d put up a camera in there and tapped a body mic into their sound system so he could still coach them while working with the rest of us. I think we may have forgotten to tell him that Kurt had ‘graduated’ from NYADA with his two year certification and associates degree in performing arts. It was all good though, Kurt hated traditional workouts even more than I did and having him with Britts made sure that he got his exercise and the only mouth we had to hear complaining was Seth’s. Though, fortunately, Seth usually ran out of extra breath for complaints pretty damn quick. It was surprising to all of us that Derek also met us at the evening practice. The man was either just that into exercise or he’d done his research because he was able to both encourage us and help us to improve the warmups. Rainbow even gave him her seal of approval.

By the time we flew to Barbados for that Saturday’s Concert, I was at least starting to get some what used to the extra exercise. Barbados was a unique experience for us. We flew in Friday evening. It was the very first time that we’d used the Rangeman retro fit military cargo plane for the first time. The whole flight experience was super different. We didn’t have to deal with the usual airport issues. We didn’t get recognized and cause an eruption of autograph seekers. We didn’t have the usual security hold up as Noah and-slash-or Santana were, yet again, selected for random searches. No more security guards with wandering hands…it was delightful. The seats were designed for the taller, muscular Rangemen so Sam and Noah didn’t feel like they were missing anything for not being in first class. But the comfort wasn’t just about the width and leg room, the seats themselves felt like a higher end car seat, rather than the itchy shit from which they tend to make the airplane seats out.

We got comfortable and quickly took off…take off felt easier to me too, but by that point I may have just been in love with the whole experience. I confessed as much to my husbands. “Now this is the kind of private plane I wouldn’t mind having for us. I’m still against the little Cessnas…but something like this could definitely work for me. It feels really,” I tried to find the appropriate word. “Safe.”

Noah nodded. He pressed a kiss to Nikki’s sleeping head. As soon as we were allowed to remove our seatbelts, she’d climbed into his lap and promptly fell asleep. “It does feel safe. It’s big enough…we could even go half on it with someone else and still be good, even if we needed to use it at the same time.”

Sam smiled. “I do like the thought of going in with somebody else. It can defray some of the cost. Because I don’t think these bad boys come cheap.”

After we reached a firm, ‘we will look into what it would cost and how it would work’, we tabled that discussion. We moved onto something that had been weighing on Sam’s mind all week. “Am I the only one who kind of feels bad that we didn’t hire that one special lady?” he finally asked. I thought of it as him finally asking because Noah and I had both realized that he’d been bothered by something since the meeting at MALA. My dark-haired husband and I had ensured that the third part of our hearts didn’t have a problem that was rooted in us or our relationship, we allowed him to process his thoughts and come to us in his own time. Apparently, that was his time.

“Why?” Noah asked him simply. “We didn’t not hire her because she was special? We just liked the other people better.”

Sam shrugged. “I know that. We hired Jackson because ultimately he can fill two needs and we choose the hyphenated lady because she could be an epic person to learn from Haja and Brantley. But the other lady…I think she might have needed a chance too. I mean, it can’t be easy to find a job if you’re slow.”

I acknowledged his point but raised another. “Sam, it might be more difficult, but she didn’t seem to have many holes in her resume. She may well have already found something new. Besides, Jackson and Corrina have both already accepted our offer…it’s too late to change our minds now.”

“Yeah, I know.” He didn’t sound like the topic was over for him.

Noah was the one who came up with the solution that finally eased Sam’s mind…which was perfect because I had nothing. “Look, Danny-Boy and Millsy are both making plans to open new offices soon, right? So we shoot them her resume and background check and one of them can give old girl a shot if she’s still looking.”

I was relieved when Sam’s visage cleared of worry. I thanked the good Lord that I had backup when dealing with both of my husbands. Sometimes I was positive that I would have wrecked a more traditional relationship with my inexperience and emotional ineptitude. “So,” I drawled, changing the subject to one that was both happier and one that had been on my mind for quite some time. “What do you guys think about the multiple ceremonies idea?”

Puck shrugged. “Other than seeing you have the day of your dreams, I don’t really care all that much about any of the ceremonies. I’m with the two of you until time ends; so, what does a ceremony matter…unless. Will people give us shit? I’m down with doing twenty ceremonies if people have to give us shit at each of them.”

“Sorta sure that, since we’re famous, we’ll be expected to have people make donations to a charity in our name.” Sam pointed out.

“Do we at least get to pick the charity?” Noah brightened after pulling a disgruntled face.

Sam and I exchanged a look. We quickly, silently, came to the conclusion that we didn’t actually know. “I don’t know.” He admitted to spare my pride from having to admit that fact myself.

“We’ll ask Momma. I’ll bet money that she’ll know.”

“Her, or Daniel and Bryant.” Sam cosigned. “Mercy, do you want to do the multiple ceremony thing?”

I decided that the situation called for full and complete honesty. “I’d love to, but I don’t want to have to pay for more than one ceremony. Then again, on the other hand, I don’t want to be stuck if we get a cheap ass budget for the public ceremony.”

“Would you be down for augmenting the budget they give us?” Noah asked me.

I thought about it. “I don’t think so. I mean, think about it. We’ll be paying for our family and friend ceremony ourselves. Our families are all big as hell. Yeah, so okay, we only have four families rather than having six families between the three of us but let’s keep it real, the Pucketts alone are as big as both sides of most people’s families.”

There was no way that he could deny the truth of that statement. So, Sam decided not to deny but rather to deflect. “Oh please, I know you ain’t talking when you’ve got more than a few relatives who thought that when God said, ‘be fruitful and multiply’ in the Bible, He was speaking directly to them.”

“You ain’t ever lie.” I couldn’t help but blurt out. It was the truth…and it happened on both the Harris and the Jones side. That’s why the reunions were all so damn big.

We laughed so loud at those truths in joke form that we woke Nikki. She decided to come over and cuddle with me for a while. One thing we had quickly discovered about our darling daughter was that she was not the most comfortable flyer. She loved the science of flight. She liked the thought of flight. She just had a slightly hard time with the actuality of flight. She would have liked to like flying more, I could tell in the excitement she showed during boarding, and the way it faded the closer we got to take-off. By unspoken agreement, we let our little girl doze back off before we resumed our conversation.

“I actually do like the idea of a public ceremony in addition to a more private, more intimate one. That way we have the family ceremony and we don’t have to worry about trying to make sure that Nikki, Beth and the other family babies are hidden away or whatever.” Sam confessed thoughtfully. “Besides, I bet we could get a longer break from the limelight if we had a public ceremony?”

That was some Sam logic I couldn’t follow. “Wait, why?” I blurted quietly, in deference to the little girl sleeping on me.

“Well, think about it. When there is a celebrity wedding that’s super secretive and private, everyone wants to know everything about it. So, you go on your honeymoon and every picture people can take you all end up in some tabloid or on TMZ, right? If people feel like they were a part of our big day…probably they wouldn’t feel like it is their right to force their way into our special time.” He explained his reasoning.

“I guess that makes sense.” Noah agreed. I actually thought that they were underestimating the greed of our fellow human beings. Then again, maybe it wasn’t the greed they were underestimating. Noah didn’t really get fan culture at all. And Sam, he understood sci-fi-slash-comic type fan culture and from what I could ell those fans tended to be more respectful of their celebrities than the pop-culture or entertainment fan girls and boys. “I think we need to talk with that Original Cindy chic and see what kind of money we’re talking about. If it won’t be worth the impact to our brand or if it isn’t cost effective…we don’t need to do it.”

“Okay, but if we do decide to do two ceremonies…we’ll need to get together a planning team sooner rather than later. Maybe two teams, one for each event with some necessary overlap.” I said the last sentence more to myself than to my husbands.

I guess they heard me though because they exchanged a questioning glance. “Um, Mercy, we’ve still got the better part of two years at least before we’re planning to have our commitment ceremony.” Sam pointed out his confusion.

Noah was no less confused, though the reason behind his confusion was different. “Teams? We need teams, as in more than one, just to plan a couple of weddings?”

Laughingly, I addressed Noah’s and Sam’s concerns simultaneously. “Yes, teams, as in more than one…possibly more than two. Even small weddings take a hell of a lot of planning. Look, remember how long it took the Moms, Mills and Bubbie to plan Becah’s wedding? It wasn’t even all that big. Remember how long it took Mills, her girls, the Moms and Bubbie to plan that wedding? It was considered fairly small. It took Hannah eighteen months to plan everything for her wedding and she had my mom and dad, Uncle Christophe, her dad and pseudo stepmother and a wedding planner helping her. And think about it…all of those were normal weddings with well-established traditions and within societal norms. Our people are going to be responsible for creating something entirely new to help us to express our commitment in a way people will both understand and accept.”

“We’ll be able to give input though, right?” Sam pondered the situation further.

Noah was a different type of man all together. “Hell, yeah we’re giving our input. Public or private, this is about us. Our relationship, our love, our commitment…it’s going to feel like us.”

“Damn skippy.” I agreed.

Sam gave us both a wicked grin. “You know, if we have two ceremonies, that’s at least four different dresses. Can one of them be all sexified?” The conversation on that comment was stalled from where it would have likely gone by the fact that there was a munchkin among us. Still, we talked, laughted and enjoyed the rest of that flight.

Barbados was beautiful and I would have loved to have the time to explore and enjoy the island, but we arrived on Friday evening, checked in at the Hilton Barbados Resort Hotel, and had dinner at the Indian Grill, an amazing restaurant within walking distance from the hotel. The roti with chicken and lamb was so amazing. It wasn’t alone. The curry was just as good, and I was fairly certain that a food coma was had by all. The next morning, we were all up and in hair and makeup by four thirty and Sam, Noah and I were filming at sunrise. It wasn’t exactly the warmest on a Barbados beach at six in the morning wearing a sleeveless, sheer backed, really gorgeous, floor length white chiffon dress. Sam and Noah were in different and yet similar white linen pants and long-sleeved white linen button down shirts. They went bare foot, but I wore white flip-flops. Rainbow had choregraphed a three-person bachata for the first shots of the video. We’d practiced until we could have done it in our sleep…which was good because we pretty much did the dance in our sleep that morning. We’d also learned to tango all together as well. We filmed that later, during the filming we did on Sunday. That first day, we filmed until sound check, had a shortened show practice, performed a full concert, made a full two hour after-party appearance and we were all still back in hair and makeup at four thirty Sunday morning. Dave Meyers was seriously a boss. In two days of filming, on three different sets within the larger locations, he filmed all the family, highlighting all the friendship and relationship groups that we contained. I danced with my mother, father, and brothers. I danced with my sisters and Sam’s parents, and Noah’s parents. I danced with my girls and the rest of my friends and loves and our daughters. Sam and Noah danced with our family and our friends and our daughters. The families danced together…everyone danced together. I couldn’t wait to see the end results; it was going to be beautiful.

We filmed until two hours before we were scheduled to take off. There was a flurry of showers and packing but we made it to the airfield on time. Granted that was primarily because we were flying Rangeman rather than commercial, but we did make it. We made it back to our Harlem brownstone around Nikki’s bedtime. A bedtime that was pushed back considerably since she’d just spend four hours asleep on a plane. Amazingly enough when you let a nine-year-old sleep for four hours anywhere near their actual bed time, when they are supposed to go to bed, they run around like a sugared up version of Kevin from Home Alone when he realizes he has the house to himself. Yup…even more spastic and hyper and manic. It was unpleasant, hilarious and distressing all at the same time. Nikolette was not usually a hyper or manic child. She tended towards the calm and studious. That evening, she wore all of us out. She finally ended up crashing after Britts suggested a nice bubble bath. Brittany saved my life with her quick thinking…not really a sentence I ever thought I would utter, let alone mean. But true none the less. With Nick-Nack finally asleep, Sam, Noah and I were able to unpack and get some sleep ourselves.

We let Nikki have the next day off from school. Yes, it was early in the year, but she was exhausted and really, I was sleeping vicariously through her. I so wished I had been able to sleep in myself, but there was no way I could. My financial accounting professor was not the ‘understanding’ sort. In fact, Dr. Kaulson seemed to hate me in particular for some reason. He was black, so I was pretty sure that it wasn’t bigotry. At least, not race based bigotry. He didn’t seem to be bothered by Noah so, I excluded the whole ‘Black chick dating outside her race’ thing. I was unsure if it was going to affect my grades, but I didn’t want to give him any room to slap them down in the subjective ‘class participation’ portions of his rubric. So, rain or shine, fully rested or zombified exhausted, I made sure to be there and to be engaged. I was just glad that Moss had given us a day to rest. Other than slogging through Monday, the rest of the week was actually very light. We didn’t have anything other than classes and practices…well, classes and practices and the Twin T-Terrors first birthday. The Manjarrez twins turned one on Wednesday, September twenty-fourth and Brittany’s Aunt Maggie pretty much invited every person who had ever held the rambunctious twins. Or it was entirely possible that Santana’s Abuelo invited us so that we’d have to get the heathens expensive gifts. We gave them each a five-thousand-dollar savings bond and a cute soft lovie…a black and white spotted little pupper for Teodore and a pretty pink, little kitty for Tesora. Those kids were ridiculously adorable. I’m pretty sure that Haja left that party representing them to start modeling or acting.

The lighter than ‘usual’ week did give us plenty of time to integrate the ‘Mosses’ more firmly into our family. We had a framily dinner on Thursday night after practice and to be honest, it was as if Phoebe and Dietrich had always been a part of the crew. Santana, Artie and Lester were teaching Phoebe Spanish. I was pretty sure that Santana and Lester both thought that anyone who’s real last name was Garcia should know at least rudimentary Spanish. That was fine…because Moss had joined in with Woody, Junior and Binkie’s mission to teach us ladies, me especially, an ever-expanding array of self-defense styles. Moss’ favorite seemed to be all about using my environment against an attacker. He didn’t like it when I called the style ‘pickupshit’. I thought it was an apt name and funny too.

The concert that weekend was in New Hampshire and it was a fairly short five-hour bus trip and since there wasn’t an after party scheduled, we were back in New York by the time most people were having brunch on Sunday morning. The most exciting thing that happened on the drive up to Manchester was Sam proving once and for all that he could wear one of my bra cups as a hat. He was both proud and aroused by that discovery. Unfortunately, for all three of us, Ranger and Stephanie rode up with us in our bus, so his arousal was all for naught. Okay, so real talk, we probably could have made love even with them on the bus, we just thought that it would be disrespectful since they wouldn’t be able to do so if they wanted to and most of the people, we knew called our love sounds ‘inspirational’.

At the concert, I was definitely able to tell that our security was different from before. But I was also sure that anyone who didn’t know what to look for would not pick up on the changes. After all, since it was a shorter travel trip, it made sense for Mr. Guzman to add some extra coverage during the meet and greets. Ranger slipped in seamlessly, seeming to be anywhere there was even a hint of a hole in the coverage. But the unsurprising shocker was actually Stephanie. She made it seem like she had always been with us. She had done something with her hair and her makeup and she really seemed as unobtrusive and unassuming as Hudson as she followed our PA around taking her orders. The most interesting thing was that Stephanie did it all while seeming to almost sense the feel of the air. Watching that caused me to notice that she was spending her free time with the road crew rather than the Rangemen. I wondered if that was for information gathering or to maintain her cover. I didn’t mention it either way. She had a job to do and it didn’t include catering to my nosiness.

I wouldn’t admit it to anyone but as the tour edged out of September and closer to the final dates, I was starting to experience some anxiety. I tried not to show it. I was Mercedes Jones…I had been McKinley’s answer to Bone Crusher. Showing fear wasn’t something I was comfortable doing outside those who I considered to be mine. I definitely had to reign those feelings in the Wednesday following the New Hampshire concert. Since Haja was in Mississippi introducing Cal to his mother that week, and I did really love their love story…it was really, very sweet, we’d given Hudson the night off as well. We promised each of them that we’d pay a lot of attention and send them both notes on the meeting that very night. Before we could go to bed and lose any of the details to sex or dream brains.

Immediately after our Juilliard classes finished, Hitta picked us up and drove us to Cynthia’s Mercer St, NoHo apartment. I had taken care with how I dressed for the evening almost in. Though most people would assume that I hadn’t. Rather than looking like a diva, I went with a seriously Cedes look that day. My jeans were distressed, and far too easily confused with jeggings. My long sleeved royal purple tee shirt was covered with a black, three button, waistcoat that fastened under my breasts and was layered over a black, hip length tank top. I wasn’t rocking heels either. Nope, that day I was rolling in a pair of purple, black and silver Nike Air Maxes and jewelry. Just a pair of stud earrings and three pendant necklaces. Okay, so the Nikes were custom, and the earrings were two carat diamond studs and the S, N and open heart necklaces were platinum and diamond…but overall, I looked like the girl I had been before all the fame and the glamour.

Puck and Sam seemed to have taken their fashion cues from me. Noah’s jeans were paired with a burgundy and gray raglan shirt which was partially covered by a matching flannel. He took the opportunity to wear his most well-loved black leather motorcycle boots. Sam was rocking his favorite brown, shit kickers with some jeans that fit him beautifully, but had seen better days. His heather gray hoodie was open to reveal a custom, Star Trek medical officer blue tee shirt that had Original, Leonard Nimoy, Spock standing back to back with Nuevo-Contemporary Zachary Quinto, Spock with both of them throwing up their live long and prosper hand sign. It was his new favorite shirt and I was sure that it would be everywhere, like, twenty minutes after the first time he got photographed in the thing. Sam and Kurt’s textile artist friend had an agreement. Mac kept Sam in one of a kind, custom designed shirts and made things like Nick-Nack’s sleeping bag, and…as soon as Sam was seen in them at least twice, Mac could then mass market the gear on one of the tee-shirt sites. Having Sam seen in something of her design meant Mac didn’t have to do much in the way of self-promotion at all.

With Hitta’s able driving, the three of us and Hudson arrived at Cindy’s building just before seven. Looking around the neighborhood, it was easy to see why the area would have appealed to a young, music minded, millennial. There was walkable nightlife and her building was close to the train too. The building was a pre-war building that had been converted into residential lofts. Of course, given the age of the building, it was a walk-up. But I guess all the working out my lifestyle and more recently, Moss had forced upon me had definitely helped because I wasn’t even all that winded. Within a couple of minutes after Cindy opened the door to her fifth-floor unit, we could tell that, while in a very trendy location, the loft had been designed to be very much a home. I had to give the DJ turned A&R exec her due credit. She was looking at home comfortable fierce. Her curly hair was in a massive halo around her head. She was wearing dark wash, painted on jeans and a simple twist hem tee in a pretty eggplant color, topped with a wheat colored, light weight, open front sweater.

“Hello, I’m glad you were able to make it. I know that your schedule is ridiculous. Welcome to my home.” She said calmly with a wide grin as she ushered us into the apartment. She took our jackets and hung them in a nearby closet that I, may or may not have peaked into, it was small but neat. Cindy ushered us down a rather thin entry hallway, under a set of industrial chic looking black stars that led up to the second floor of the tall, though slender, long condo. As we passed the kitchen, she pause. There was a tallish, blondish, White guy in the small but gorgeous kitchen preparing an antipasto plate. “I didn’t mention it at the meeting, well, because we’re all still very used to keeping our relationship details as ambiguous as possible at work. I’m involved in a long term-platonic, domestic partnership with two men…and a long term-very much not platonic domestic partnership with a woman, who you’ll apparently meet a little later. Our remaining partner is out of town on business. This is my husband, Logan Cale.” She gave him an intimately friendly smile. “Logan’s a blogger and a legal analyst-slash-political beat reporter for the New York Times.” It was so easy to read the pride she had for her hetero-life mate Logan. “The four of us have been together for…” she trailed off as she tried to do some mental math.

“Nine years…for you, me and Charly. Our boyfriend has been a part of our lives for the last three years.” Logan’s voice slid into the hesitation smoothly. “Hello.” He said wiping his hands on a kitchen towel before crossing to us and shaking our hands. Logan was broad shouldered and very nice looking, there was something about his blue eyes that made me slightly wary. Though not exactly in a negative way. His eyes were hella-mischievous. They made me want to check every seat for a whoopee cushion or his hand for a joy buzzer. I was a little surprised that he and Cindy had been together so long considering that she was only thirty-one and honestly, while he was handsome, he looked to have been around thirty one when they met. “It’s nice to meet the three of you. Cindy and our wife Charly love your music. It’s been playing non-stop in the house since you broke onto the scene. And our fourth…he made the girls Valentines when he got us all tickets to your Lucky-in-Love dinner concert.” 

“Damn, y’all are really poly.” Noah said having wrapped his head around their relationship dynamics quicker than either Sam or I. “That’s cool.”

Cindy nodded. “Yeah, our quad is different from your triad though in one pretty significant way. Where the three of you are all romantically and sexually linked, we are only all romantically linked. Logan and Charly are both bi-romantic and bi-sexual, while Paul, our fourth, he and I are both homosexuals but bi-romantic. It is kind of a good thing that Paul is bi-romantic because sports aren’t really an accepting place for gay men. At least not on the professional level in America. So he plays the consummate bachelor for the cameras and fans.”

It was Sam’s turn to make a connection before Noah or I could. “Oh please tell me that you mean Paul Narita from the Mets. Noah owes me a whole weekend of some seriously epic playtime if I’m right and Narita really is gay.”

“Shit,” Logan breathed. “You can tell? How? Paul is always so careful.” In his surprise, he admitted the truth without explicitly saying that Sam was correct.

Puck grunted in exasperation. “Sam swears that the fact that in certain games Narita chooses to slide the smarter way, feet first, while in others…even in almost the exact same situation…he goes head first, is because he’d gotten his ass reamed good before the game and sliding on his ass wouldn’t be a lot of fun.”

Sam shoved him lightly. “Shut up, you act like it’s a dumb reason, but I was right. Besides, it has a very real basis in fact. Remember when I slid on my ass into home during that pickup game with Stevie and Ethan…the one right after we got back from that first Harris Family reunion. I will never make that mistake again.”

“Son of a bitch.” Logan muttered. He was so deep in his thoughts, I was pretty sure that he hadn’t heard anything had said. “That is both a better and a worst-case scenario.”

“I don’t see why it would be a worst case scenario.” Cindy shrugged. “Sam said he knew because it had happened to him. So, doesn’t that mean that only another gay or bisexual guy would pick up on it? And really how many of those, other than Sam Evans are watching baseball that religiously?”

Puck decided to be helpful. “Sure as hell not me. I only watch it because Sammy Boy loves it. I’m more into football and basketball.”

“See Logan,” Cindy said soothingly. “I’m sure that it’s not that many. We’ve never heard any hints of his true sexuality in the press and Margot and Bella have both been great about letting folks think he’s the greatest lover either of them have ever had.”

“Yeah, and we’re not going to say anything.” Sam promised earnestly. He wasn’t lying. We all knew that outing someone when they weren’t ready was not something any of us would ever do. At least, I would never do it again without an equally good reason.

Suddenly, another woman came down the stairs and joined us. “Sorry, sorry I’m late. I was on the phone with the clerk at my shop. She knocked over a hydrangea and needed me to walk her through the proper way to repot it. Hello…it’s amazing to meet you three. I’m trying really hard not to fan-girl out but I have seen SongBird so many times I can actually spot Puck and Sam in the club scenes and a couple of times in the shopping montage. I know the online trivia sites says that you guys were in the shopping scenes four times, but I can only find three.” She babbled quickly and excitedly in a naturally husky voice.

I had long ago realized that there was no specific ‘look’ to women who were in happy, healthy poly relationships. But it had been my experience that women were harder on other women about their looks. Therefore, in my head, a thin, beautiful lesbian like Cindy would prefer a thin, pretty woman for their partner. Charly McEachen-Cale was, well if she hadn’t been about seven or so months pregnant, probably she would have been thin and fit. But even thin and fit, she didn’t have a face most would consider pretty. Instead, Charly was simply a truly striking woman. She had raven-wing dark hair-cut in a epicly layered bob-piercing light violet eyes, lips larger than Sam’s and skin as pale, if not even paler, than Hudson’s. She was taller than Cindy or I, but not as tall as Sam or Puck, both of whom were shorter than Logan. “It’s not a problem. I hope that she was able to save the plant.” I said to, hopefully, cover my appraisal of Charly.

She gave a winning grin and launched into the kind of dissertation on why the hydrangea would be okay that only those who love plants could give or understand. Thankfully, Cindy took pity on us, “Charly, Baby, they so don’t get what you’re saying. I’ve been with you for almost ten years and I only get half of what you’re saying.” She chided softly.

“Sorry,” Charly apologized quickly, but a little insincerely. “I love my plants, and sometimes I forget that now everyone does. Anyway, Dinner should be here soon. I didn’t really feel like cooking and I like you guys too much to subject you to either of my mates’ attempts to cook anything edible. So, I ordered from Del Frisco. It should be here in the next little while.”

“Why don’t we chat and get this whole getting to know you better thing started while we wait?” Logan suggested seamlessly. So, we settled down on the very comfortable, if rather modern, navy blue tufted couches and the complementary armchairs and chatted as we waited. Over a delicious antipasto plate, we learned that Cindy and Charly were both transplants, Cindy from Seattle and Charly from LA. Logan was considered by most to be a native New Yorker, even though he had been raised between Boston, New York and DC as his parents were wealthy socialites and ‘business people’ turned ambassadors. He had actually gotten his international relations and politics undergraduate degree from Cambridge while his father was acting as an ambassador to England. We told them little about us. It wasn’t that we didn’t want to share, there just wasn’t a whole lot of things that weren’t known about us that we shared outside our family and friends. Still the conversation was never stilted. About twenty minutes after we started talking, Cindy’s PA, Hayden, arrived with our meal.

“I had wondered. Somehow I hadn’t imagined that Del Frisco’s had a delivery option.” I said as we made our way to the heavy, reclaimed barn wood dinner table.

Charly laughed. “I only managed to make take out happen because my god-brother is their master sommelier.”

We all chuckled. “It’s good to have friends in low…and high…places.” Sam added, exacerbating the laughter.

It was interesting watching the three of them working together to quickly and efficiently to deploy dinner. The table had been preset for six, out of town on business indeed, Sam was TiVoing the Mets game. So, it was fairly easy for Cindy and Logan to pass out our first course while Charly set the entrees in the oven to retain their warmth. “I hope that you don’t mind. Since we’d all be eating the same thing if I’d cooked, I just ordered us all the same thing for dinner.” she announced across the kitchen peninsula. “Well, except, I decided that none of the rest of you had to do without their amazing seafood just because I can’t have it.”

She’s made some really awesome choices. We each had a Del’s Salad of mixed greens, tomatoes, shaved carrots and topped with scratch made croutons and crisp bacon. There was a tureen of some truly awe-inspiring lobster bisque and five jumbo lump crab cakes. As we all enjoyed the first course, Cindy finally started talking shop. “The three of you have done an amazing job building the KAMA brand. You’ve managed to blend the rock and roll lifestyle with both social and personal consciousness without coming across as preachy or insincere. Because of that, most people…even those who do not find your music to be their cup of tea still like or respect you. however, your personal brands, your individual ones are not as well developed. One of the ways I want to change that is with a public wedding. The coverage I’ve worked out with People, Entertainment Tonight, The Guardian and Brides for a public ceremony would give people peeks into your inner parts. Then, I’d like to launch a new KAMA tour where all three of you debut your solo projects and new KAMA music.”

“Not a bad idea.” I said thoughtfully. “But we’re not planning on having our commitment ceremony until after graduation…that’s another two years away.”

Charly smiled. “A celebrity wedding can take up to three years to plan and no one would blink an eye at why. The details involved in just the flowers for the Meyers and Ashe wedding took us almost six months to hash out. I can only imagine how long the rest of the decisions all took.”

“Bride is willing to pay the cost of the reception catering, chef or caterer and menu of your choice, in addition to paying you, Mercedes, three million for a series of, no less than three-no more than six, articles that outline the process of planning a commitment ceremony for three and how it differs from a wedding for two.” Cindy continued. “They offer an additional million if you let them do an article on the designing of your ceremony and reception gowns.”

My smile was damn near predatory. I knew immediately that I would have to shift some things around and wear the dress my best friend was creating for me at the public ceremony rather than the family one. I had to. I knew exactly what that kind of exposure would mean for Kurt. It would be his discovery story. I looked at Sam and Noah. “We’ll need to make sure that Kurt is ready for what that would mean for him.”

They both nodded. “We were planning on giving him a year rental on a design studio for his graduation gift anyway. He’ll be ready.” Sam said confidently.

Noah cosigned it. “But you know that he’s going to need some serious head room. He’ll need to be ready to put out his first line right after the ceremony.”

Logan agreed. “Striking while the iron is hot would be the best idea. I bet you that Brides or Vogue would love to get a sit down with the designer of the dress or dresses of the wedding of the year.”

“Designer of one of the dresses. I’ll still be under the endorsement contract, so there is no way Prada won’t want me in one of their pieces for at least part of the day.” I muttered unthinkingly.

“Well, that’s fine also.” Cindy made a mental note to find out more about the Prada contract. Unfortunately for her, given the structure of KAMA’s contract with Warner, we as a group didn’t have to share information on any contracts or other arrangements that weren’t brought to us by Warner’s team. Warner wasn’t entitled to a piece of any pie they hadn’t baked after all. Though we had easily shared information most of the time in the past, Cindy was coming to realize that she didn’t hold the same place in the KAMA family as her predecessor had. To put it simply, we didn’t yet know where her loyalty lied and weren’t sure if she would try to get money for her employer that shouldn’t be theirs. “In addition to the Bride offer, the Guardian is offering you each a million for an individual sit down and photo shoot along with a photo shoot with all three of you for the front page of the pull out. Their offer isn’t contingent on any discussions of the commitment ceremony…but it would be a very deep dive into your personal lives and your relationship. They are doing a series on polyamorous and polyandrous relationships and you three would be the biggest part of that special report. I have to admit that I didn’t actually have to work very hard for that one. Logan’s old college roommate is one of the piece’s editors and he reached out as soon as he found out I’d been assigned KAMA as my main client.” She disclosed honestly. “We’ll be apart of the series as well. The three of us will be named but Paul, will have to remain anonymous.

With a broad grin, she continued. “Back to the fluffier side of journalism, Entertainment Tonight is offering something similar…four feature pieces, one on the three of you and the ceremony, and then each one of you would do a feature spot by yourselves. They are offering a million per individual piece, and they will pick up the tab for the bar and pay for your wedding and groom cakes. Warner has agreed to pay five million, semi-unrestricted for you to use to pay for your public ceremony. There is a contingency in place though that they decide which publication is allowed to be present and publish photographs of the event. Deborah has most of the board convinced to make that publication People. However, there are a couple of hold outs. Two of the board members have close ties with David Pecker and are trying to sway the rest towards one of the American Media magazines.”

“We are not putting what will basically be our wedding album in the National Enquirer.” Sam said sternly. “They’re garbage. I’m willing to do a spread for Men’s Fitness, maybe something that taps on wedding prep but also looks at the problems of body dysmorphic disorder and maintaining health without going overboard.”

“That’s a great idea.” Cindy immediately blurted. “What about you, Puck? An interview with you as well and I can guarantee that the rag mag will be totally off the table.”

Noah’s shrug was noncommittal. “I never really mind doing an interview. I don’t know what I would say in one that could come close to the importance of what Sam wants to talk about…but it’s all moot anyway. You need to let the board members know that given the fact that we’re currently, still, in litigation with both the National Inquirer and their parent company…we’re not doing interviews with the rag mag or with Men’s Fitness. Sam can do his in-depth interview with Men’s Health or GQ instead. Because it’s important and needs to be done. But naw, we’re not working with any of the American Media Inc publications.”

Cindy looked abash. “I am sorry. I cannot believe that I forgot about the court case pending settlement. It was discussed in the first meeting I had with your legal and management team. Our lawyers were all enamored of yours for getting TMZ to knuckle under at all let alone so quickly. I’ll remind Deborah and she will let Smythers and Hymes know they have to suck up to Pecker some other way.”

I couldn’t restrain myself. Well, perhaps I’d have been able to restrain myself if there had even been time to try. But before I could blink, “so they’re sucking Pecker’s pecker?” flew right out of my mouth.

Logan laughed so hard he was completely guffawing. “Thank you…I thought it, but if I’d have said it, Charls would have killed me for the misogyny of telling a dick joke.” He chortled. Though his humor was soon replaced by confusion. “I do have to admit though, I would have thought that you were too…I guess, good…to make a joke like that.”

My own shrug was good natured. “I don’t think anyone who doesn’t know me well would have thought any differently that you do. My brothers and my uncle taught me very early how to hang with the guys, but they were only allowed to do so because my mother taught me even earlier how to be a lady. My grandmother made sure that I understood when and where it was appropriate to behave like my uncle and brothers…and that was never in public.” I smirked a little. “I don’t think that I would have ever caught, let alone, kept Puck’s attention if I was that one dimensional. Or Sam’s either if we’re being honest.”

“Wait a minute, I thought that you and Sam were the angels to Puck’s devil. Why would Sam not want a good girl?” Charly leaned in to ask. I could see that she was one of those people that enjoyed gossip and drama and ‘tea’ far more that the average bear. Probably it was somewhat boring being a florist as fall started putting all the plants to sleep. Besides, it wasn’t like I could throw stones on that one, anyway. I still loved celebrity gossip, as long as it wasn’t about anyone, I considered a friend.

Sam smirked but didn’t answer her. I was laughing too hard to answer her. It was always funny to us how much people bought into the hype. We’d done a really good job keeping my previous rage incidents under wraps. I was pretty sure that Coach Sylvester would have laughed in the face of anyone daring to have called me an angel. Sam was both better and worse. It took more for him to get really pissed off. But his inner Puckett left him with no fucks left to give far more often than most would have believed. Given our amusement, it was left to Noah to answer her. “Now Sammy Boy, like Cede… he’s good. He has a beautiful caring, and loyal heart with an awe-inspiring capacity for empathy. But that’s just one side to him. He has other sides…there are times when he has absolutely no fucks to give. And if you hurt someone he loves, well, I hope you have your affairs in order and your funeral pre-planned. Cede, she can be gentle, caring, almost fucking maternal…but other times, you’d think she was a Vengeance Demon from that old Buffy show. Me, well, the Badass is just one side of me…a huge ass side. Maybe even the biggest part of me, but its only one of many. We’re multi-faceted like that.”

Cindy brought us back to the matter at hand with an amused smirk. “Well, be sure to show off all your many facets during all the interviews you’ll be doing over the next two years. The lawsuit will ensure that People Magazine gets the exclusive rights to your public ceremony pictures. An honor they are willing to pay three point five million to secure. But again, People is paying you for the rights to your ceremony pics…not for any particular part of the ceremony.”

“Okay, so wait, let me run this back. Warner is in for five. People is in for three and a half…but we still need to get Warner to give the okay on People. Brides magazine is cool with paying for the catering…well, the real food part of the catering. Then Entertainment Tonight is handling what the bridal magazine people aren’t and they are paying us for the chance to give us publicity on top of that.” Puck began to innumerate the offers Cindy had laid out for us.

I was glad he did...I’d missed the People caveat, somehow. When he trailed off as if trying to remember them all, I stepped in. “We’ve also got the Guardian…isn’t that one a British publication? Anyway, they want to do several interviews for their series on poly relationships. Honestly, I think that is one article I’ll be proud to do. I mean, I love celebrity culture…always have…but usually the articles in Brides and Vogue about celebrity weddings can be kind of…meh. But an investigative journalistic look into poly relationships with the three of us as part of the case study; that could be world changing and will definitely be interesting to read.”

Logan smiled. “The Guardian is a very old publication. At least a century or two old. They are making great strides in getting back to true hard journalism. Their last owner had turned it into something of a rag mag.”

“They are the British paper that started to keep track of police shootings here in America, right?” I asked cautiously and was greatly relieved when he said that the Guardian was the correct paper. “Then, I’m definitely good with it.”

Sam nodded as did Puck. It was Sam who voiced what was on all our minds after Cindy and Charly had served us our entrée of three filet mignon medallions, Del Frisco’s Chateau mashed potatoes, roasted Brussel Sprouts, thin, whole green beans and a truly delicious demi-glace. “So, is that it? I mean, it sounds like there would be enough to cover the costs of doing things the way Mercy, Kurt and Bubbie will want to do and get us both a nice profit and good coverage. But I get the feeling that you’re still sitting on something.”

“Damn, Deborah said that you were amazing at reading people…but damn.” Cindy smiled. “I was saving the best for last. I was approached by an online antique marketplace called First Dibs. They are offering you all the jewelry you find on their website that you want to use for your wedding…for free…yours to keep.”

“And the catch?” I asked her with a slightly concerned smiled.

“You can’t spend more than two point five million…and you have to do a photo shoot for their online advertising campaign.”

“Hold up…they are giving us two and a half million bucks worth of jewelry and all we have to do is big up them when we’re going to be talking about where we got the wedding stuff anyway and do a photoshoot in the pieces for the company?” Sam said in true confusion. “That does not seem like an equitable exchange.”

“You wore Graff to two awards shows and their profits for those specific quarters more than doubled above those same quarters the year before.” Cindy pointed out. “Louboutin created a special color so that Mercedes could have ‘nude’ shoes the perfect shade of chocolate brown and when he took them public, they flew off the shelves the second they hit. KAMA is damn good for business.”

We let that sink in for a moment. To be honest, we didn’t really look at things like that. We did have several individual endorsement deals and more than a few together, but it wasn’t because we sought them out. I wore Graff jewels because I’d loved the first piece Lyor had given me so much that I went in to find the matching earrings. I went back because the sales person had been really awesome. I’d told Bubbie that I liked them, Sam and Noah had cosigned it and boom…Graff for the win. Then came the endorsement deal, so Graff it was. I didn’t even think to consider the benefits to them. I’d just been happy that Elise got commissions. “I guess we never thought I just considered how being aligned with their brands helped to build ours.” I paused. “Whoa, that sounded much less selfish in my head.”

Charly, Cindy and Logan shared a chuckle at my expense. “I don’t think its selfish,” Cindy said when they had exhausted their humor. “You guys are still very young and you’re building one of the biggest brands in the world.”

“In a very abbreviated amount of time at that.” Logan pointed out. “Most music artists have several years to begin the process, to learn and build their name up as they go. You three had what six months as novices before your whole world changed around you. You’ve done a hell of a lot in the what…eighteen months since…and you’ve only had a couple of bumps in the road. It makes sense that you would concentrate on the benefits to you and your brand rather than looking at what you brought to the companies expressing interest in you. Right now the three of you are probably still in claw and scratch mode. You’re trying to make sure that you don’t just fade away without a fight.”

“Hunh,” Noah grunted. “That’s actually a pretty good way to describe the situation.”

Charly smiled. “We went through a bit of this ourselves when I opened my own shop and when Cindy started climbing the ranks at Warner. Now that KAMA is a household name, you’ve got the chance to sit for a moment and breathe, but at the same time…you have to make sure that you keep KAMA at that level or climb higher. It’s a tricky business.”

“Fortunately, I’ve got a little bit of experience helping with brand development. I can also help with quite a bit on the music side of things…especially helping Cassidy and Dave with beat development.” Cindy gave us a big smile. “But like Charly said, you’re doing great on the KAMA side of things. I just need to help you on stepping up your individual game.”

“Okay, so we’ll start to do more individual interviews. I think that I’m the only one who has really done some of those yet.” I admitted.

Sam smiled. “And…now we can officially start setting the dates for our public and our family and framily ceremonies.” It was funny. He had been the one of us who had seemed the most laid back on the subject of setting the date…though Noah had seemed the least fussed on the entire subject over all. Granted, this kind of thing was more my jam than it was either of theirs. I already had my lists started of things I wanted and who I wanted to stand up with me. Sue me, I was a girl, and as such I was allowed to daydream about my wedding…or commitment ceremony as the case may have been.

Noah smirked at me, almost as if he had read my mind. “You know what two ceremonies means…two bachelor parties.” He laughed heartily.

Logan soon joined him. “I’m probably too old to party with you two, but I can’t help but hope that I get invited to at least one of those.”

I smiled. “I think there should be four bachelor parties and two bachelorettes. I mean, since we’re all committing to each other…we should each have our own.” I stated reasonably.

Cindy’s smirk was almost dangerous. “Actually, you do your three main ones before your real commitment ceremony and then have a big ass industry one that you invite your business only people to before your public one.”

“Oh, I like the way you think, Cindy. We can even invite our grown fans to that one.” Noah chimed in. “Make some real loot.”

“Puck, do you ever think you might be greedy?” Charly said kindly.

He shrugged. “Naw…I don’t want all the money. I just need to make sure that Sammy-Boy never feels like he has to worry about cash again.”

I swear, the level of awwww on Charly and Cindy’s faces was astronomical. “The three of you really are a fully co-mingled triad.” Logan said quietly. “It’s something I knew from what you said…but seeing it in person, face to face, is entirely different.”

“Ummm…thanks.” I said my confusion coming through in my voice. “But you do realize that so are the three of you and I’d imagine that it’s probably your fourth as well.”

Charly smiled but shook her head. “No, its not the same with us.”

I laughed dead in her face. “I’m sorry. That was rude. But I have gots to call bullshit on that thought. The four of you may not all sex each other up all integratedly, but the love between you three is so real its almost visible. Cindy, Logan, just because your love is more platonic than what the two of you feel for Charly, doesn’t make it any less strong…any less…well just any less. You have an intimacy between the two of you and I’m just guessing…but after nine years, you’d fight and die for each other. You can’t imagine a world where the four of you aren’t the four of you, can you?” They shared a long and loving look before turning to me and shaking their heads no. “So see…don’t make the mistake of confusing sex with love. You can be completely in love with someone, share every other kind of intimacy there is and yet, not sex them down.”

Cindy looked completely stunned. “I cannot believe that we fell into that trap.” She muttered. “I mean, you’d expect Logan to be that dumb…but Paul, Charly and I are supposed to be more intelligent.” She teased in a way I could tell was a joke the quad pairing shared often.

Logan just smirked. “Now, now, my beautiful Cindy…I keep telling you, and Charly and Paul that you guys shouldn’t be jealous because you were not able to go to college at an elite institution, as I attended.” He was full on hoity-toity. It was hilarious.

The conversation for the rest of the evening was much the same. It flowed between ideas for our individual and combined careers, often with input from Charly or Logan as to the real world implications of Cindy or our own plans, and discussions that allowed us to get to know our new artist development representative. I wasn’t sure which ones were more fruitful. But by the time Sam, Noah and I finished typing up the notes to email to Haja and Hudson, I felt far more centered than I had just that morning, and I was confident that Cindy McEachin was a good fit for us.

 

We Are Young (Fun feat. Janelle Monáe)  
Jake PoV

The first day of my senior year of high school was kind of boss, kind of a pain in my ass. I woke up on time. Sort of. I wasn’t all that worried about it. But Sarah, who I was scheduled to swing by and pick up for the first day of school…I wasn’t promising anything about the rest of them. Even though when I said that to Ryder he laughed dead in my face, I still wasn’t promising to take her to school every day. Anyway, she started texting me at six-thirty to make sure that I was up and we wouldn’t be late. Yeah, I got it. I’d put a hell of a lot of thought into what I’d worn my first day at McKinley. It was partially because I was sure that I was going to walk up to my brother and introduce myself and I needed to look exactly the right way when doing so. At least, that was what I told myself. Of course, then I chickened out. But ultimately everything had mostly worked out for the best.

Still, I rolled out of bed at seven and threw on a pair of Armani Jeans that fit my ass like they were made to demonstrate to the world that Yeshiva had given me the most incredible ass in all of Lima but weren’t all tight and constricting on my legs. Since the jeans had a gray wash, I wasn’t sure if I should warm it up with a red tee-shirt or stick with the blue one. Then I remembered that I didn’t really give a fuck and looked awesome in both. I threw on the Rag & Bone red Henley and let that do. I knew that there were going to be a lot of cold ass freshmen. It was still August, so they figured they should wear short sleeves. But that was a rookie mistake. The classrooms weren’t too bad, but the hallways of McKinley High were always ridiculously cold.

Growing up, Alicia had never wanted it said that her son wasn’t one of the better dressed kids in the school. She’d made sure that my closet was full and had some good variety to it. But my closet back then didn’t hold a candle to my current closets, as in plural. I had filled the ‘master’ closet, as well as the closet in Puck’s old room and I’d turned the hallway linen closet into my second sneaker closet. I had so many shoes. I loved it. I tried to act like I didn’t…but I did love having all the cool sneakers to choose from whenever I wanted. I could take or leave all the super expensive clothes, but the shoes, I was keeping all of those. It may have been stereotypical, but I did love my sneaks. I smiled as I looked down and realized that the color combo of my clothes made my Air Jordon 1 ‘Chicagos’ the best choice for the day.

It was with that thought in my head that I showered, shaved, moisturized, lotioned, deodorized and got dressed. I wasn’t one of those knuckle headed Axe bitches neither. I wore Dior Eau Savage and wore it well. I may have had quite a collection of colognes to choose from too. I needed to get me a new honey so, I went with the lady killer of my day to day scents. I’d gotten up before seven and was out the door looking fly as hell before seven thirty.

I did swing by and pick up Sarah as promised. I was glad that she wasn’t wearing a dress, that would have made her look like she was trying too hard, and Sarah Rochelle Puckerman didn’t have to try hard at shit. But even still, I was not a happy big brother with her chosen first day outfit. Sarah was rocking…they were probably skinny jeans, but on her they looked like jeggings. They were dark wash and had a button at the top and four walking up the side of her legs. So yeah they were skinny jeans, just painted on ones. She’d paired them with a ‘simple’ linen tank top that was only dress code appropriate because it had cap length flutter sleeves. That damn top would have been fine on Tessa…but on Sarah it was entirely too tight and too low cut. It was also too short since she was wearing leggings and the damn thing stopped without even covering her hips or ass.

Then when she got into the car, I noticed that she was wearing makeup. I may have lost my big brother shit. “What is that?” I said and swiped a finger down her cheek. It came away clear, so either I was wrong or she was wearing the really good shit that Bubbie and Mede used. Which reminded me… “And why are you dressed like MeDe and Satana’s Jewish love child?”

“Okay, to address your second point first, you just described the most awesome person ever, so thank you. Assuming that you meant what was on my face, Mom, Papa George and I reached a compromise on the whole no makeup until sixteen thing. Of course, I have to do Cheerio makeup when in uniform but when I’m not in uniform, I am allowed to wear eyeliner…any color…brown mascara, and a tinted gloss.” She smirked. “So, red and gold eyeliner, mascara and a pretty goldish cherry gloss.” With her point made, she licked her tongue out at me.

“So mature, freshman.” I teased.

Her eyes rolled in her head so hard, I was shocked they didn’t end up in her lap. “You’re all grumpy and crotchety ever since Chase left for school.” I shook my head but tried to ignore the truth of her words. “Then again, Noah’s a pain in the ass when he’s lonely too. You gonna start boning miscellaneous Cheerios again?”

I shrugged. Probably, but she didn’t need to know all that. “How is KC?” I said instead.

The screw face she gave me was hilarious. “I assume that he’s fine and will be tormenting me with his presence as soon as he is able to find me.” Sarah’s voice was an interesting mixture of warmth and condescension. Why she refused to just admit that she and KC were it for each other…a fact even George had come to realize pretty quickly…no one really understood. Even if she thought they were too young to find forever, well, they could take things slow and build up a really strong friendship as a foundation first. There would be plenty of time to worry about being more when they were both ready.

I knew that trying to get her to see that was as effective as banging my head against a brick wall for fun or profit. So, I changed the subject. “I take it you didn’t go completely overboard on the outfit because you have to be in uniform this afternoon?”

She nodded. “Yeah, we’ve got to change during our lunch period…then we’re in uniform for the rest of the week. The JV squad has a pep rally tomorrow before the JV game and then of course…”

“The senior Cheerios have theirs on Friday.” I finished for her. Both of McKinley’s football teams had their first games against Shawnee that first week back. I was actually pretty confident that we were both going to get a win. I parked my Rogue and we walked into the school talking about everything and nothing. Since Sarah was a Junior Cheerio for so long, she knew the school almost as well as any second semester sophomore, at least. So, she went her way and I went mine. I didn’t see her again until glee in final period. The first three days of the school year flew by and I was proven right. Both JV and Varsity took big wins which was a great way to start the season.

We had that next Monday off for Labor Day. That was pretty epic. I spent some time with a Fabray wannabe Cheerio. She was on the B squad and willing to do anything to make it up a level. Since she knew that Coach Sue was tight with my family, she decided that meant she would do whatever I wanted to do to advance her positioning. I didn’t ask too much of her, but I was horny as hell and she was cute. She got pissed though when I pointed out that there wasn’t any way for me to help her. Coach Sue wasn’t absolutely cruel to me, I wanted to keep it that way. Putting myself in her Cheerio business would have totally changed that. Besides, I didn’t actually remember old girl’s name anyway. The chick’s personality just wasn’t that memorable, and in bed, she was actively boring.

Since Moms D, George and Sander were in NYC for Labor Day, we all hung out at the Jones home, in their pool with our friends. Benton cooked out and Angel Mom and Becah took care of the sides. It wasn’t as many people as they would have usually hosted, and the Zizes and the Hudsons brought desserts, so things were chill but more than cool enough to make it a good party. I actually didn’t make it home until Tuesday morning and had to rush to get dressed and get to school on time. Even though it was my senior year, I wasn’t taking bird courses…at all. I started my morning with AP Government followed by Calculus. Then I had Spanish with my boy Ryder and a few of the other Titans I got along with. My lunch class was my other AP class, English Lit. I kind of wished that I was in the regular English Lit class since the only person I knew in my AP class was Marley and she and I hadn’t managed to stay anything resembling friends. But I was hoping to test out of the freshman English requirements…the government one too. I wanted to get started on my real courses as soon as possible. Besides, some of the schools I was planning to apply to were not easy schools to get into. I needed to look as good on paper as I did in real life. After lunch, I had Physics and weight training before ending the day with glee. My extracurricular activity game was tight too. I was in Spanish Club, FBLA and I was on the basketball team. We’d gotten pretty damn good too…we were only second in the state the previous season, but that was leaps and bounds up from where we had been my freshman year. The New Directions were still the national champions, and the Titans were the State Champions. I was a senior that year and Shelby felt that my win in the small groups’ category and my special award the previous year meant that I should definitely be in the running for the male solo category. I was pretty sure that Roderick was gonna kick my ass again, but I was still going to give it my best shot. 

On the football field, I really shined Ryder and I spent the season switching off as quarterback, sometimes within the same game. When I wasn’t in as qb, I was the wide receiver or running back. I’d be starting forward come basketball season and I was determined to graduate as a member of a championship team there as well. Since I didn’t plan to play college ball, I would never be up for scholarships for either sport. But I knew that they would help my resume and applications. I was pretty focused on the whole next steps…but I had a shit load of fun too. I wasn’t in a relationship, so I could make out with and even get my full fuck on with any girl who was interested. Even with school and all my extras, I still made time to ensure that Puckerman Pool’s business was handled and that I spent plenty of time with Triple S, Double A and S, and the parent types. I rode with Ryder to see U and the OSU crew on the three Saturdays I could. I went to Barbados with the family and got to be in another one of KAMA’s music videos. Then before I knew it, it was time for Ry and me to take the SATs.

Like Sam, Ryder got extra time and other accommodations to take the test. He was the reason we took the very earliest testing date available. Ryder hoped to have extra time to retake it if he needed to. I was a little jealous that Roderick, Hell, Spence and Alistair, Ivy and the Rybeck twins were all taking it the first Saturday in November. It gave them a whole extra month of prep time. Ryder had six days, after our scores would be available online, to decide if he felt he’d crashed and burned bad enough to sign up to take it with them too with out paying the late registration fees. Though they weren’t taking the test with us, all the senior New Directions, and a few of the football players who were serious about college too, all came over to my house and we hung out and ran through some of the test prep stuff one last time after that evening’s football game. Shy, quiet little Ivy had grown a hell of a lot over the four years I’d known her. She dominated that impromptu study session in the way only a true academic could. Though Ivy and Casey had not stayed together as girlfriend and boyfriend, their relationship had been good for both of them. It had brought them out of their reticence to speak out and gave them the confidence they needed to be able to make friends. Since she and Hell were fighting it out for Val and Sal and none of the rest of us wanted to have anything to do with getting in their way. Not that we could; Cassie was the next highest ranked of our crew and she was fifth. Casey and I were ninth and eighth respectively. Honestly, Casey and I didn’t have a whole lot in common outside glee and our shared classes, but we were good study partners and could be counted on to help each other out with our weaker subjects.

It was strange, I’d gone to McKinley for my whole four years of high school. But the simple truth was that I hadn’t made as many friends as I could have and maybe should have. I had the kids in the New Directions, the less meat headed of the football players and that was about it. Most of the people I was tightest with had graduated the year before. I was pretty sure that I was closer to Shelby, Dave and Ms. Pillsbury-Gruber than most of my classmates. Shit, I talked to Tessa, Unique and Chase more everyday than I did most of the people I went to classes with. Even though the rumors through the halls said that I was stuck up and aloof, I wasn’t all that concerned. I had exactly nine months left in that school and then I’d really only talk to my people.

Our little corner of the school had definitely grown since the original Muppet Babies, as Tina referred to the first New Directions. The current year’s glee club was forty-seven voices strong. The former Warblers were fully committed New Directions and we had a decent stock of freshmen. But as the club grew, and as we gained more acceptance around the school, we’d lost much of the social cohesion that had been such an integral part of Noah’s choir. There were seventeen ND seniors, and sixteen of them came over to support me and Ry the night before we took our SATs for the first time. Marley didn’t really hang with us…ever. U had said that she was supposedly gonna try to get me back, but if so, one month into school and she hadn’t made any moves. I honestly couldn’t say how I felt about her. I thought that even if we didn’t stay boyfriend and girlfriend, we’d have stayed friends. But Marley hadn’t just stopped talking to me, over the last couple of years, she’d turned into someone I didn’t even like.

I shook off those morose thoughts and remembered laughing through last minute test prep. Moms D had given me and Ryder, Noah and Sam’s old ‘STKs’ or standardized testing kits…they’d gotten us new pencil sharpeners though all the original unused black Ticonderoga pencils were still there as were their calculators but I took out Puck’s old one and put in the one my aunt Cat had gotten me over the summer. Angel Mom had made sure we had granola bars and water bottles to take with us. I made sure that we both had our printed admission tickets and of course we both had our licenses. I’d made sure that we were as ready as humanly possible, but I hadn’t expected what happened the next morning. I had set my alarm for five-thirty, so we could make sure we were there by seven. Coach Sylvester had managed to get McKinley on the testing center roster, so we knew exactly where we were going and we would be golden when we got to the school. I didn’t think it necessary to get there at the ass crack of dawn. But I was awakened before my alarm went off to the smell of coffee and turkey bacon coming from downstairs. Pretty much all the adults in the family had a key to my house, so I wasn’t really worried. I showered and pulled on a ribbed tank, a pair of Zanerobe cargo jogger pants and went down to see who was fixing us breakfast.

“Good morning, Sunshine. You and Ryder need to hurry up and get ready.” Becah said casually as she sipped on her mug of coffee.

I ran over and gave her a hug. Since she had started Med school, Becah-Mom just wasn’t as available. She ended up having to spend the weekdays in Cleveland more often than she had expected. Usually, she didn’t get home late until Saturday morning. For her to be in Lima that early, meant she’d either come in the night before, or left her efficiency apartment at like two in the morning. We all knew how hard she was working so we tried to make sure that her time at home was as relaxing as possible. And she was as bout as much of a morning person as Noah and Sarah usually were. I gave her a second hug. “Man, Becs, thank you so much. When did you get home?”

She gave me another hug. Becah-Mom gave great hugs. “I actually haven’t been home yet. I wanted to be here to get you off for the SATs. And I didn’t get quite as early a start as I had meant to. I should really disable my snooze button.”

We shared a laugh at that before she shooed me upstairs to finish getting dressed. I swung by Noah’s old room and made sure that Ryder was up and at least in the shower. Back in my bedroom, I dug through and found the Palm Angels gold logo tee that I’d gotten to wear to the Knicks game over spring break. I had gotten to meet Spike and Tonya Lee in that shirt and they were a huge part of my learning to read so young, I thought that it was somehow fitting to wear that shirt to take my SATs. I grabbed a black hoodie to rock with it and my treasured and lucky Lebron 12 gold sneaks. I knew that a lot of tech watches were banned from testing centers, so I grabbed the only analog watch I owned, a leather strapped Timex with a gold face. I brushed my teeth and cleansed and moisturized my face. I threw on the rest of my clothes and ran back down stairs. Becah-Mom had put together a breakfast feast…at least as far as I was concerned. There was the turkey bacon and coffee, of course, but there was also bagels, cream cheese, lox and diced cantaloupe and berries. Just as I was sitting down with my perfectly fixed coffee, Becah-Mom was awesome, Ryder joined us. I noticed that he was dressed similarly to me, cargo athletic pants, a tee shirt and a hoodie, though his hoodie was our Titans’ one, and his clothes were more Target or Macy’s than the stuff Bubbie and Moms D or MeDe usually picked out for me. But other than that, and the fact that when we weren’t on the field, he pretty much lived in Converse all-stars, we were dressed the same. I ate as much as I was comfortable eating, packed the rest of the cantaloupe in my snack bag for the breaks, I noticed that Ryder did the same thing for the berries. We chatted with Becah-Mom before she kicked us out to make sure we were on time.

The SATs are a hell of a lot of stress, bother, and hurry up and wait. We spent our whole Saturday on that damn test. Okay, not the whole day, we arrived at McKinley at a quarter after seven. Being a preferred testing site meant that there were people there to take the SAT, the GRE and the LSAT…Coach Sue must have had some serious pull somewhere. I was done by noon and Ryder was finished like twenty minutes later. I knew that we were actually going to be the last class of seniors for whom the essay portion would be mandatory, but that just meant we still had to take that bitch. I walked out of there shaking my hand. It so felt like that one day had given me carpal tunnel.

Ryder came out and I looked over to him. “So…” I asked encouragingly.

He sighed. “Yeah, I’m just gonna go ahead and sign up to retake that damn thing. The only thing that got me through the essay was the thought that I could retake it and USC, they are superscorers and they take the best score from each part.”

“Okay, do what you’ve gotta do buddy.” I said with a smile.

Ry gave me a ridiculously puppy eyed look. “You know, University of Miami is a super scoring school too. You could sign up and we can all take it together next month.”

I wasn’t going to do it. Really, I wasn’t But then Ivy, Cassie and Hell all got wind of Ry’s suggestion and next thing I knew it was the last day to sign up for the November seventh test date at Rhodes State. “Come on, Jake.” Hell needled. “Don’t you remember Cede’s and the rest of the seniors our freshmen year talking about how they had gotten together the night before and slept over and how it was this awesome experience that made the whole ‘test from hell’ okay?”

“You just want me to say yes, so we can do all the massive, bonding, comradery studying at my house.” I said pointedly.

Roderick shook his head. “Um…my parents are gonna host it. They insisted after Hell’s dad caught me and Hells…well, he caught us so no unsupervised girl and boy interactions until after Hells has been on the pill or the shot for an entire month.”

There was a hell of a lot of laughter following that little bit of information. But it did make me feel like they just wanted me to be a part of their memories rather than using me to create some memories. I gave in…with caveats. “Fine, but if we’re going to recreate the Original New Directions’ pre-SAT party deal, we’ve got to do this right. There was dinner with all the parents before the game, and we have to create our own test taking kits.” I said sternly.

Cassie smiled really big. “That’s not a bad thing. This is our last year really living at home. Casey and I are only kids…we kind of want to spend extra time with our folks.” She admitted.

Several of the others looked relieved that they weren’t the only ones looking to be around their parents a little more. It may not have been the cool thing to say, but that didn’t make it any less true. Ivy looked determined. “Get me a list of everything that goes into the ‘test taking kits’ and I’ll make sure that we all have everything that we need.”

“Oh good, because the pencil sharpener in the one Jake’s moms let me use was a life saver. The line for the one in the testing room seemed to be never ending during the breaks.” Ryder piped up. “And I know I probably wouldn’t have taken enough pencils with me if not for that kit. It seemed like I went through a million of them.”

So, I found myself using the time between glee and football practice to register for a second SAT testing date. I didn’t care how much Ryder begged though…no way in hell was I taking the ASVAB. That night we all had dinner at the Joneses. Becah-Mom had finished early for the day and actually came home rather than staying and studying. She missed us. “So, Jake, what’s going on in your world?” Moms D had teasingly asked once we were all around her massive dinner table.

I had to think about it for a second. “Umm…well, my Aunt Cat called. Remember, that job she went to New York to interview for right after Labor Day? She got it. Grandma said that she starts next month and between the severance package she’s getting from Boeing and the relocation package she’s getting from her new employer, Aunt Cat won’t have to settle when it comes to where she lives or anything…and she’s making more than she was making at Boeing even with the cost of living difference.”

“Oh, I’m surprised that she got a severance package. I thought that she had decided to change jobs.” Sander said quietly.

“Well, she calls it a severance package…Grandma and Mr. Levi both call it hush money. Apparently, even though everyone knew that Aunt Cat had nothing to do with her ex’s illegal activities, her co-workers have made things unpleasant for her. Her supervisor suggested that she’d be happier somewhere else. Since that was completely inappropriate considering the situation…”

“It became a constructive firing and to keep Catrina from filing an ethics or harassment complaint they threw money at her.” George completed for me.

I nodded and touched my nose. “A lot of money. Grandma said it was more than a whole year’s salary.”

Angel Mom laughed. “That’s what they get. I bet you if she’d been White, they’d have treated her just like a princess who had been victimized by a troll.” Sometimes I wondered if Angel Mom was kind of over compensating for being a southern White woman now that she had black people in her family. But then again, I’d met several of her Puckett relatives in the last couple of months, they all seemed to hate racism with a fiery passion. Don’t get confused, Pucketts didn’t like those they didn’t consider part of the family very much on the whole…but they didn’t judge about race, gender, sexuality or anything like that. “Okay, now tell us something about you, Jake.”

“Umm…I’m meeting with Ms. Pillsbury-Gruber and Mr. Desmond, the lead English teacher, next week to go over the first drafts of my college essays.” I threw out unthinkingly.

“How many did you have to do?” Sarah quizzed me. 

I rolled my eyes. She could be so damn nosy. “Since I’m completing the common app, I had to do one of their five essay topics and then most of school, I’m applying to want a separate one also.”

“Well, I hope that you aren’t applying to as many schools as Tessa did.” Benton joked.

I laughed in relief that I was not. “No, I picked the top five with the program I want, and I let that do me. I, only, really want to go to three of those, but five gave me a couple of backup schools and that was important.”

All the adults were nodding. Mara finished her dinner and came over and climbed into my lap. How she managed to escape her high chair without ever hurting herself every night, we never could figure out. I did like being her favorite of the middle sibs though. Of course, I soon realized that it wasn’t necessarily that she favored me as much as she favored the beef lo mien that was on my plate. “Oh,” I added nonchalantly. “Our SAT scores came back today…” the parental units and Sarah all leaned forward hopefully. I waited them out a little.

“Well.” George, surprisingly broke first. He demanded my score with a reassuring grin.

I chuckled. “I did okay. Got a six ninety-two on the Essay. I’ll need to pull my math score up if I want to get into Georgia Tech…only got a seven seventeen on that portion. I managed a seven-thirty-six on the verbal, so all together my twenty-one, forty-five should get me into Miami, USC, Colorado and Penn…even if I don’t manage to wind up in the ATL with the Elder Sibs.” I assured everyone. There were congratulations and cheers. Moms D started grilling me to find out what I wanted for a celebratory gift. Angel Mom hugged me three times. George texted Becah-Mom and all the siblings with the news. So, my phone started blowing up. I kinda loved attention, but I felt my face heating up and so I was grateful when the exaltations finally petered out.

Then, it was Sarah’s turn in the hot seat and the parents were very interested in how she was enjoying high school. Then Stevie and Stacey spent like fifteen minutes talking over each other. Each trying to give all the other’s news. Stevie didn’t really have that much news of his own. He’d only been back to school for two days at that point. He and Timothy Murphy had gotten suspended for fighting. Not each other, apparently a new kid had been harassing Stacey and Stevie’s Lil Villainess. After they’d verbally showed him the error of his ways, he had told them that he’d done it in service of Vivian-Leigh, who’d blown him in exchange for him bothering the other girls. She blamed Stevie for the fact that Ethan had ‘broken up’ with her. Even though Ethan swore up and down that they had never actually been boy friend and girlfriend. Anyway, Vivian-Leigh had been his friend and he didn’t want the guy spreading rumors about her, so Stevie had punched the guy in the face. The guy had jumped both Stevie and Timmy and next thing they knew they were in the office and all three were suspended for three days.

Vivian-Leigh’s consequences were much worse. The guy had made sure that the whole school knew what had caused the fight. I’d even heard about it at McKinley. I’d had to turn in one of our free safeties to Coach Bieste, because no matter how many times Ryder and I reminded him that he was eighteen and she was hella-under the age of consent, that asshole kept talking about playing with the ‘baby slut’. It was either turn him in or kick his ass and I wasn’t trying to fuck up my permanent record. I was going to have to get Lauren or Az to show me that ass-kicking hideaway next time they were home.

Looking around the table at my family, I still wondered how my mother was doing. But I didn’t miss her as much as I would have without all the wonderful people who made sure to let me know every single day in a million different ways that I was important, and I was loved, and I was worth their time and care. It was a great feeling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still here & still writing in this universe.   
> I'm sorry for the delay, Life is happening both in real time and at lightspeed.   
> Thanks to all who are sticking with me.  
> TTFN,   
> Anni


	8. To Zion (Lauryn Hill) & Never Gonna Be Alone (NickelBack)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A peek into the world of those who care for our trio.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ****THANKS to everyone who has taken the time to review! Your encouragement helps more than you know!****  
> Thank all of you for being avid readers & reviewers of my stories:  
> I appreciate all of you.
> 
> Boredom Busting Fic Rec  
> Herculean Aftermath by jdho2/JadeHo (MCU/Plum X-Over Fic)

Chapter 8

To Zion (Lauryn Hill)  
Mills PoV

Unlike some of the way too honest mommy-blogs I’d read since my ObGyn had made her pronouncement, I’d found that I actually didn’t hate being pregnant. It wasn’t the easiest thing I’d ever done but it wasn’t as hard as assembling Ikea furniture without the English instructions. That may have been the stupidest bet I’d ever made with Francesca. I don’t know what hurt worst, my shredded knuckles or having to fork over that hundred bucks when I wasn’t able to put together that damn PAX wardrobe. As September marched towards October, I was twenty-four weeks along and I had finally found the glow and equilibrium that I was I was told I would achieve in the second trimester. I had had serious roller coaster hormones for most of the time since I’d realized that I was pregnant. Both Saul and I were enthusiastic when the roller coaster stopped on incredibly horny all the damn time. Okay, we both were at first. By the end of the first month of the horny all the times, I was pretty sure that Saul was hitting a hotel on his lunch break every day. Not to cheat, God knew he didn’t have the energy for ‘copping some strange’. No, he just needed to get some sleep.

My last OB appointment had gone swimmingly. We were advised to start the process of interviewing pediatricians. That wasn’t a problem for us. We’d already spoken with Nikki’s doctor and her partner who was also EJ and Avery’s pediatrician and they were each happy to accept the future Baby Boy Mayzer as their patient. The next task we tackled was deciding on a theme for the nursery. Actually, we handled that after spending a lovely weekend in Barbados filming a very beautiful video concept by day and relaxing on a gorgeous hotel room balcony overlooking the ocean by night. We loved it so much, that when everyone else flew home on Sunday afternoon, we stayed two extra days. 

On our commercial flight home, we might have, should have considered that staying behind meant flying commercial, we had a lot of time to think about everything. “So, should we plan for a girl too, just in case the doctor is wrong?” Saul asked me once we were all settled and waiting for the airplane to leave the gate.

I shook my head. “I don’t see any reason to bother. The technology is pretty damn good, now. The chances of them being wrong are slim to none.”

“Okay, so boys nursery ideas.” He said and whipped out his favorite piece of technology. He went nowhere without his Surface. It took us no time at all to rule out blue skies…too boring. Modern or monochrome…too cold. Lumberjack…to lumberjacky. Every ‘best boy nursery idea’ we saw just looked either overdone, or entirely not us.

Finally, I looked at Saul and shook my head. “Okay…so put all that away. What would you like in your son’s nursery?”

“Scooby-Doo, or He-Man and She-Ra, maybe the Ghostbusters, but the eighties cartoon version…to go with the theme. Something cute, but really awesome.” He told me after thinking for a while. “I guess most of my picks are the cartoons I watched back in the day. What about you?”

“I like Scooby-Doo…it was pretty advanced as far as decent representation of females…not so great for people of color, but none of the cartoons from back then really covered all the ‘inclusion’ bases.” I returned. “I liked all of those different Hanna-Barbera detective type cartoons. Scooby, Josie, Johnny Quest…but my favorite cartoon from back then was the SMURFS. I loved me some Sassette.”

“You know what would be the greatest nursery of all time? The Smurf forest complete with Smurf Village.”

I smiled. “Yeah but hidden in the trees would be Scooby and the Mystery Inc. gang, maybe even Captain Planet shooting across the sky towards the Planeteers.”

“Since it’s a medieval forest, we can let He-Man and She-Ra with Battle Cat and Swift Wind play there too.” Saul said excitedly. “You know who we need to get to help us?”

Knowing exactly who would love the theme as much as we did, I nodded. “Where the hell is he going to find the time?”

My husband just laughed. “If Sam can’t do it…we’ll let him tell us that. But he would be very not happy with us if we went to anybody else for this.”

With that decision semi-made. We knew what we wanted for the walls of the nursery. Even if a huge, room encompassing mural was untraditional, it seemed kind of perfect to us. If Sam wasn’t able to help us, we were pretty sure that Kurt or Seth Cohen probably knew someone who could. Then again, Seth made his own comic book…he was probably a viable second option. “So, what does the rest of your week look like?” I asked Saul conversationally.

He looked thoughtful. “Well, other than trying to get that new assistant they gave me to go and take a couple training sessions with Hudson and Grant, not a whole lot. I may have cleared my calendar for the week, just in case you wanted to stay in Barbados the whole time.”

I shook my head. I was not surprised. I would also have been lying if I said I hadn’t considered staying longer myself. “Well, you may have planned ahead, but I did not. Frannie, Nadia and I are going to look at office spaces. Our lease is up at the end of November and not only do we need more space, I refuse to pay that much more for the same old same old. It would have been perfect if the kid’s rental office was going to be big enough for us.”

Saul quickly agreed. “Yeah, that would have been good, but you guys have enough of a client base now to upgrade to a more central address.”

“That’s true. Especially with the caliber of clients that Cedes keeps sending our way. I didn’t even know that she knew Dakota Fanning, but that’s who Ms. Fanning said referred her to us.”

“Wow.” Saul breathed. “Was she buying or selling?”

I smirked hard. “Both. We sold her place near Central Park West and she got a new one in the Village.”

“Well, damn.” Saul said appreciatively. “So, you definitely need a superior address and an awesome suite.”

“Yeah, we’re looking in Midtown, on Madison and a few other places. I’m glad that you, Neil and Sam were able to help me, and Nadia convince Francesca to buy rather than continue to rent.”

“It’s just good business. Especially since you’re taking on a third and fourth partner and leaving yourselves enough wiggle room to bring in at least a few junior agents.” He gave me an amused glance. “Is it wrong that I’m strangely proud that Sam was the one who made the suggestion that you buy rather than rent?”

I couldn’t suppress my mirth. “No, or at least if it is, I’m right there being wrong with you.”

“Oh good, at least we can be wrong together. That’s important in a good marriage.” My oh so witty husband teased. “Are you okay with working with another broker to fine your new office space?”

I knew that it was a good question, even if he had just obliterated the gently teasing, happy tone of our conversation. “I’m dealing. I mean, it’s the right thing to do both ethically and just in terms of best practices. But I worry that it’s going to become a pain in the ass to try and get another person to understand what we need and the way we work.” 

“Well, don’t get mad at me, but I have to say this…but Mills, do you really think that you, Francesca and Nadia are going to have any trouble making your wants and needs understood? Hell, let’s take you and Nadia out of the equation. Did you forget what happened when that poor wedding planner included a three and a half star reviewed bakery among her recommendations even though Francesca said four or five star only?” Saul gave me a disbelieving look.

I couldn’t help but smile. It hadn’t been funny at the time but watching Frankie fussing at that poor wedding planner about how one didn’t round up when it came to Yelp reviews, one rounded down and Francesca personally did not even acknowledge the existence of reviews under four stars was hilarious looking back. Though, in defense of my friend, the very fact of the matter was that the three point five star bakery Poppy Guthrie, Frannie’s wedding planner, had put forth had a significantly lower health department score than the next best baker who did have the four stars, Francesca demanded. I said as much to Saul who just chuckled. “You looked that up to have ammo in case the wedding planner tries to label Francy as ‘difficult’. Didn’t you?”

It was my turn to smirk. “I’d already looked into all the vendors Poppy tends to recommend to her brides before their first meeting. I’m not brand new.” Our laughter filled the Uber we’d taken from the airport. The laughter continued until we reached our house.

Returning home was always a wonderful feeling…no matter how great a trip one was returning from. And our vacation had been pretty fabulous. It had been relaxing and definitely luxurious. Unfortunately, unlike my forethinking spouse, I was up bright and early the next morning. We were meeting our commercial property broker, Jennings Foster, at ten and I was pregnant enough that I had to agonize over what I wore on a daily basis. I’d never been a fan of dresses, but for the first time in my life, I was finding them to be a better option than pants and a top. It felt as if my body was changing on a day to day basis and the dresses were more forgiving than the maternity tops I’d found that I liked. That morning I finally settled on a lovely teal maternity tank dress with over the belly ruching and a scooped neckline. I wore my black, maternity cut, blazer and a pair of black Tory Burch Espadrilles. I kept my makeup very light, but I was just old-school enough to firmly believe that a professional look demanded at least a little makeup effort. I threw on some silver hoops and a necklace that had been my mother’s. The small diamond wrapped in white gold on a white gold chain had been a gift from my father for my birth. She’d considered it to be her lucky charm, now it was mine. It always made me feel as if she and my dad were watching over me.

Saul woke just long enough to see me off and I headed to our current ‘office’ space, near my old apartment. Frannie, Nadia and I met quickly and reminded each other exactly what we were looking for, before Jennings arrived. “Okay…we need space for at least four large offices.” Frannie stated once they had drilled me for details about Saul and my trip to Barbados.

“Five.” Nadia argued. “It makes sense financially to offer an interior designer to our clients. It gives us a leg up on other brokers and it allows us to glean some income on the purchase of this space.”

I nodded. “I agree on the designer; however, I’d actually like to have a total of six large office spaces from jump as well as room for junior brokers and assistants. If we’re going to do this, we should give ourselves rooms to grow.”

Frannie sighed. She knew that we were right, she just tended to be more conservative when it came to spending money on our business. Probably because this was her money, where the money she was spending on the wedding was mainly her mother’s and Neil’s. “I know…I know…but you know that all that extra space is not going to come cheap.”

I smiled at the cliché of my next words. “You’ve gotta spend money to make money. No one is going to take us seriously as a brokerage if we don’t have an office space comparable to Cocoran or Elliman. Not at the level we’re currently working.”

There was another sigh…then she changed the subject. “When is Maddie finally moving here?”

“She’s getting her house ready to list. The plan is to be for her to be here by the new year at the latest.” Nadia reminded her. “You know, there is another, really good, reason to have an in-house decorator.”

“What?” Frannie’s voice held so much curiosity, I couldn’t help but laugh.

“If we have an in-office decorator that we recommend to all our clients…no way will they not want to decorate the office. Meaning that we won’t have to decorate the space ourselves.”

Our laughter filled the space until Jennings joined us. Jennings Foster was a handsome man. He was tall and had the movie star good looks that had sent him to York College to major in the performing arts. Unfortunately, Jennings was a horrible actor. Incredibly bad. So bad that he’d not even been able to turn his six foot three, well-proportioned muscles and handsome face into a career or even make a go in the soft-core porn industry. However, he’d found that he was very, very good at selling people things and had found a place among the upper echelon of commercial real estate agents in Manhattan. I had actually met him through Saul. By that point Saul had managed Foster’s money for the last half decade and knew him well. Saul had introduced us when I told him that we were making moves towards buying our own office space. It turned out that, bad actor though he may have been, Jennings was a damn good property broker. He wasn’t that great a person…too entitled and whiny for him to ever achieve ‘friend’ status, but he had found what he was good at and he was more honest than most other commercial brokers I’d met.

He shook our hands and greeted us warmly. “Mills, tell your husband that he is a financial god. Couple of months ago, he refused to let me get a stock in this awesome biotech company this gorgeous blonde told me about. I was a little ticked, because since then, it had tripled. But then some serious scandal about the feasibility of the tech broke. And now, that same stock he refused to buy…it tanked while you guys were out of town. I’d have lost entirely too much money if he hadn’t stood strong.”

“Well, I’m glad that you listened.” I returned with a smile.

Jennings nodded, his mid-length blonde hair moving like a shampoo commercial. “Me too. That’s why I’ve got a ton of listings for you and I’m taking you three to the best listings first. And since you’re pregnant and don’t want to walk a million miles, all of them are within the same twelve block radius. Heck, six of them are in one building and four more are in a second.”

“None of them need total build outs…right?” I assured myself that he’d listened.

He shook his head. “No. Okay, well, two of them are. But they are such great deals, I think that you need to see them. Most of the ones I have lined up for you to see have been taken down to the flooring and primary walls, so if you want cubicles or center offices, you’ll need to do that, but for most of them, the basic bones are already in place to fit the list you gave me.”

Jennings proved to be a rather gregarious, very affable man who certainly knew the ends and outs of New York’s commercial real estate scene. The first space he showed us was exactly the kind of building we were looking for. It was within walking distance of the Museum of Modern Art and the Paley Center for media. There was good subway access and it was a nice, imposingly tall building. We walked into a gorgeous building with an incredible black granite lobby. “There are actually two different suites available in this building, both of them on the twenty-third floor. One is quite small, only suitable for two people…three at the very most. But the one we’re going to see; it might just be perfect.”

The space really did meet many of our requirements. Four corner offices, with the option to build out two to four more. “This suite is available, as is, for up to forty people. However, you also have the choice to subdivide the space in half. The problem there is that if you subdivide, you will lose two of the corner offices.”

“Yeah, this one is going to have to be a hard pass, then. We don’t need enough space for forty people not when we’re starting with four, maybe five, and growing from there…but at the same time we’re equal partners and we have to have equal offices. Two of us chilling in true corner offices while the other two are stuck in internal corner offices…it’s just not going to work.” Nadia said reasonably, if a little bit cool.

We’d noticed after the first meeting that Nadia treated Jennings with an amount of standoffishness that we just weren’t used to seeing from her towards an attractive man. When I’d asked her what was up, she’d explained, “I don’t want to deal with him if he gets the wrong idea. He gives off the aura of a guy who assumes that every woman wants him, and that polite conversation is a clear indication of that want.” She shrugged. “I’m happy with Bryant…he’s not perfect but he is exactly perfect for me. We need Jennings in a professional manner, so I’ll just keep him at arm’s length, and we’ll get this search done without a problem.” Her theory seemed both well thought out and sound to Frannie and I, so we let her roll with it.

The next property we saw that day was three blocks away from the first. Again, it was in a great building that had the right cache, but it was the same size as the previous one and didn’t have the option to subdivide. Our third stop was on Fifth Avenue. The area couldn’t be beat, still close to the museums and Rockefeller Center. The exterior of the building was very old school, it certainly wasn’t the tallest of the buildings we’d seen, but it was so niche that we all loved it. “Okay now this property is a real beaut. It’s technically large enough for fifty, according to the listing, but I had a long convo with Steven Andres, the building manager, and he said that they tend to recommend their full floor suites for no more than thirty people. For your purposes, you could always give yourselves a nice, dramatic reception and waiting area and a tricked-out conference room to use up some of the extra space until you grow big enough to need it.”

We all exchanged looks. If we had to admit that we’d not considered either of those spaces in the office plan, we’d have probably only done so upon pain of death. Personally, I couldn’t believe that until he said it we’d not considered the need and usefulness of having a conference room and a separate, more posh, reception area. The space was on the fifteenth floor of the building and, honestly, it wasn’t anywhere near as impressive as the overall building. Due to the height of the building, the corner offices didn’t have very good views. Despite what the listing said, despite what the building manager said…the space looked far smaller than thirty to fifty people. It looked to me like there wouldn’t be any room to grow past an in-house designer and a couple of junior brokers. We were hoping to add at least one junior broker per year for the next five and maybe take on an intern or two as well. The space would manage those people, but not with both a beautiful reception area and a conference room. I really wanted both of those after Jennings mentioned them. My mind was already spinning ideas.

We saw a few more spaces and finally broke for a somewhat late lunch at The Garden at the Four Seasons. “Okay, so, I’m just gonna say it, the Coke building suite…it was too small. Let’s take it off the table too.” I said once the waitress had our orders.

“Okay that’s your veto. Nadia’s went to the first one. I want to go ahead and say that I hated that place that was halfway down Fifth towards One Trade Center. It was too far; it wasn’t the right cache. It was too dark. The only thing it had going for it was that it seemed to be the perfect size.” Francesca pointed out.

Nadia agreed to scratch that one too. Jennings laid out the listings of remaining properties. And we talked them through. We talked more as we enjoyed a delicious lunch. I really enjoyed my Catskill smoked salmon pizzette, though I knew I’d regret the wasabi cream later. Finally, we had it narrowed down to three different suites all in the same Madison Avenue building. “Alright…I love the twenty-ninth suite that’s prebuilt with the glass offices.” I volunteered since no one else seemed to want to be the first one to tell which suite they liked best.

“I liked that one, but I preferred the thirty-second floor one with the similar build out. It was more intimate.” Frannie said pointedly.

Nadia shook her head. “By intimate you mean small…and it was…too small.” She took a sip of her sauvignon blanc. “What about the one on thirty-three? The views of the Park were unparalleled. Those views alone will increase our cache immediately.”

“That office did have great views from every angle…but it was one of the largest suites we looked at.” I pointed out.

Jennings pulled up a great site that allowed him to calculate how much space we needed based on the specs we’d given him. “Okay, even using the largest settings for the conference room and the reception area…that suite is still about three times larger than you currently need.” He showed us the readings he’d put in, and after we made a few addendums, like bathrooms in each of the executive offices in addition to good size male and female restrooms and a larger breakroom that we hoped would foster a sense of community in the workplace, the space was only twice as large as we would ever probably use.

“Okay…crazy idea…why don’t we build out most of the extra space as an in-office day care. Think about it…all four of us are either married or close enough. Mills is gonna pop soon enough. Maddie’s biological clock is ticking so loud we can hear it on this coast. Having somewhere on site so we’re near out children will alleviate a lot of the working mom guilt and if we offer it as a perk to our prospective employees…and even our clients…” Nads said thoughtfully.

I nodded immediately. “We’d need to really vet any nanny or workers we hire for the nursery, but I could come back full time within six months to a year after instead of staying part-time until the baby is old enough for school. And clients with small children would probably love not to have to cart them everywhere while searching for a new home.”

Nadia smirked. “I actually think I know the perfect person for the job. She used to do some plus-size modeling for a few of the companies I worked for, but it was just to pay off a massive student loan debt. She was working at a private school in Brooklyn Heights, but last time I talked to her, she was quitting because the stress was too much for an unexpected…but desperately wanted pregnancy. Her kid should be about three or four now. I’ll reach out and see if she’d working or ready to go back to work and see if she’s interested. But salary?”

Frannie thought about it. I did some mental math myself. “If we each kick in twelve…twelve five extra a year, we can offer her forty-eight to fifty a year and benefits.” I said confidently.

“And she can include her kids in the head count. We should never have more than twelve kids with just her though.” Frannie suggested.

Jennings smiled. “Once you have employees paying into the daycare, you can always hire her some help.” I knew that he knew that we knew that he wanted the commission from the larger sale, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t right. “Okay, so you’re putting in an offer for the thirty-third floor…eleven thousand square foot space.” He asked leadingly.

“The asking price on that is seven million, right?” Frannie stated briskly. “That’s far too high the comparables in the building aren’t even going for over six hundred a square foot. Let’s go in at six even and see where they’ll come down to. There are three other suites in that building that should suit our needs, like the one on thirty-nine, it’s about the same size. I know that we didn’t want the hassle of the full build out. But, at the asking price, we can build it out and still save us a significant amount of money. Think about it, if that saves us a million bucks, we’ll deal with the drama.”

Both Nadia and I agreed with her on the offer and the build out point. “I’ll get in touch with Rosamunde and Langston. I can let them know that we were able to find a space that would give Rosy office space for a set monthly rent… I’ll check the comparables and see what a fair rent for the space would be. I may also see if she has a suggestion for another decorator, or perhaps a contractor who could rent the other office that size within our suite.”

Jennings smiled. “The rental cost in that building start at seventy-eight dollars per square foot and up from there as you go higher in the building…up to around one eighty each once you get to the thirtieth floor.”

“So, if we offer her a rental fee of a hundred and twenty-five to one fifty, she’d be getting a great deal.” Nadia agreed. Rosamunde had gone to school with the four of us. We’d not been all that close, but we had shared some classes and lived in the same housing complex. We’d even partied together after graduation and kept in touch over the years. Frannie and I both liked her style and, since the very beginning, offered her information to any of our clients who were looking for an interior designer.

“Alright, I’ll draw up the offer and submit it this afternoon. We’ll need to move fast, but I know that your financing is all in order, so it should be a smooth process.” Jennings said happily as he called for the check.

We said our goodbyes and Frannie immediately dragged us off to meet with Poppy, who’d made arrangements for Frannie to work out the cake design with the baker who’d ultimately won Francesca and Neil’s palates over. Somehow, Nadia ended up taking over the whole appointment. Okay, I knew exactly how it happened. The baker wasn’t very fond of Frannie’s color combination of fuchsia, scarlet and sunshine yellow. However, Nadia pointed out, the baker didn’t have any right to try to change Frannie’s mind, especially given that everything else was already ordered or in place in those colors. “I’m not even sure why you’re complaining. She wants a pure white wedding cake, five tiers, decorated with sugared, edible flower in her colors. How is that that hard? You’re not having to try and exactly match fondant coloring or something. This is her wedding. The invitations have gone out in that color scheme. The bridesmaids’ dresses are ordered in that color scheme. The florist has carefully created a truly outstanding bridal bouquet, our nosegays, the guys’ boutonnieres and the mother’s wristlets all in an array of those same three colors…four if you count the white that’s being used as the counterbalance.” From there, things could have gotten really ugly, Nadia had a long held belief that she was the only person allowed to pick on Frannie. Therefore, when Frannie started to feel put upon, Nads tended to go into full overprotective mode.

Things were about to spiral out of control when the gods shined upon me. My phone rang and I checked the screen to find that it was my favorite niece, well, the favorite one who lived in New York anyway. “Hey Mercedes, what’s up?”

“Hey Millsie, Uncle Saul said that you were out with Nadia and Francesca?” she started with an audible smile.

“Yup…we’re at the bakery that’s handling her wedding cake.” I offered for no reason.

“Oh good. Put me on speaker for a second.” I complied. “Nadia, if you like them let Yazzy know…she’s helping Momma plan your and Uncle Bryant’s reception for us. Anyway, Ladies, I was calling because we finally found a date for us to go look at showplace apartments. Can one of you take us around on election day. After you’ve voted, of course.” She was quick to add. 

It took us a second to check our calendars and find, “If you don’t mind it being all three of us, staggered through the morning, and early afternoon, we’ll be able to help you guys find something you love. And, since Haja and Kurt are sure to be too busy, we’ll put you in touch with our friend Rosamunde to really trick the place out.”

“Oh, is she the one who worked with Kurt on your house?” When I said she was, MeDe laughed. “Kurt loved her. He swears that she and Haja should go into business together. I’ve forbidden him from ever even thinking that again…Haja is our manager…I refuse to lose him to the creative side of the force. Anyway, I’ll let Hudson know to block off at least that morning and early afternoon for the search. Thanks Ladies, Sam, Puck and I totally owe you one.”

Both Poppy and the baker were agog. “That voice was very familiar. Was that…”

“Mercedes Jones of KAMA?” I finished the question for her with a small smirk.

They both nodded. “Yup, we’re actually all related to her in different ways.” Nadia confirmed. “Mills is married to Puck’s uncle Saul. Francesca is marrying his cousin Neil and I’m married to Mercedes’ uncle, Bryant.”

“Oh my,” Poppy breathed in awe. “So, KAMA will be attending the wedding?”

Frannie and I exchanged a look. Even if she hadn’t seen the program yet, she had to have seen Noah’s name among the groomsmen. “Well, since No-Puck is one of Neil’s groomsmen, and he and Mercedes are both singing during the pre-ceremony reception, I think it is pretty safe to say that they’ll be in attendance.” I answered with only the slightest amount of smugness.

Amazingly enough, as soon as I finished my statement, all the trouble the baker was having with Frannie’s style and color choices disappeared. Even the blown sugar N+F surrounded by a scarlet, blown sugar heart for a cake topper that even Francesca had believed would remain a rather gauche pipe dream was, suddenly, totally doable. We managed not to actively laugh in their faces, but it was a very near thing. Leaving the bakery, we were talking as we walked back to the office so I could grab my car and head home, we all got a message on our group text. ‘Everyone come home with Mills for dinner. I cooked one of Dani’s recipes and it looks like it serves like eighty people.’ It was both sad and hilarious that even through the text, Saul seemed to almost be begging.

Nadia looked at me and laughed. “Didn’t you make a note on the cards she gave you that all her measurements should be cut in half?”

I shook my head. “Saul and I don’t cook. I mean we both can, we just don’t. How was I supposed to know that some random day he’d decide to actually cook something? Or that if he did, he’d pick one of Dani’s recipe cards to try his hand at.”

Frannie laughed. “I bet her recipes still don’t feed as much many people as Neil’s Yetta’s recipes. She got them from her mother-in-law and his grandfather was one of ten.”

“Damn, that’s a hell of a lot of kids.” I couldn’t keep myself from muttering.

Nadia swatted my shoulder. “Yeah, right…I know you. You and Saul bought that big ass house. No way, are you gonna stop after this one.”

A non-committal shrug was my only answer, though I did know that Saul and I both wanted at least three children. No more than five…but three was our target. Thankfully neither Nads nor Frannie made further comment. At least, not verbally. Instead they both gave me knowing looks. As often happens in cases like that, when friends know each other to an almost uncomfortable level, laughter was eminent. In fact, we laughed all the way to my car. Since Frannie and Nads had both taken the train to our meeting, it was super easy for them to jump in my car with me. I don’t know about other women and their lifelong friends, but every time more than two of the four of us got into a car together, it turned into a much better version of that old Crossroads movie. One of the things that had brought us all together other than all having the same-rather male dominated-major and the wonderful roommate matching system at our alma mater was our shared love of R&B music. We all loved eighties and nineties R&B with a fierce and fiery passion. That afternoon, we made the hour-long drive rocking along to my favorite playlist. Whitney, Envogue, Aaliyah, Anita Baker, Toni Braxton…there wasn’t a single song we didn’t sing our happy asses along with. It made the often-tedious drive fly by.

When we got there, Neil’s bright ass, candy apple red, Mustang was already in the driveway. As he always did, he’d parked over behind ‘Saul’s’ garage bay, so I had no problem opening my first bay and pulling into my usual spot closest to the mudroom entrance. Before the bay door closed, I heard two more cars pull up. By the time the three of us finished singing ‘Blackberry Molasses’, and headed inside, we found Bryant, Daniel, Dominique, Grant coming in from the front door. Dom, Daniel and Grant were sticking together very tightly while Riker and Chris were down in their FBI training. Saul had called in all the troops because Rick Castle, his partner in pretty much every sense of the word, Beckett…their ‘work kids’, Esposito and Ryan and Rick’s real life daughter Alexis were there chatting with Neil and Saul around the massive island that Kurt and Rosamund had talked me into. I was really grateful for our open concept kitchen and great room because that evening we had an impromptu dinner party for fourteen.

And it was a dinner party. Saul had made two complimentary dishes, thinking that together the tangy turkey tostadas, and haystack taco salad casserole would make a full meal for two…with the possibilities of seconds and leftovers. The only problem was that both of those recipes came from Danica’s ‘party-slash-reunion’ section of the recipe card boxes she’d shared with Nadia and me. Her regular dinner recipes were big enough to serve eight. Her special recipes served like twenty. There was enough food on that island to serve forty. We stood, okay, they stood, I sat on one of the counter height stools, around the island and talked and teased and munched on the tostadas…which were truly amazing, by the way. We talked and laughed as we devoured the appetizers.

I had known and been friends with Francesca Jarrard since two thousand and two…So I should have expected what took place when we all settled around the table in Saul and my underutilized, because it was so damn big, dining room table. “Okay, since there are so many members of our bridal party here and those who aren’t still have good to impeccable tastes…Neil and I would love some input on what we could do that’s unique and classy for our wedding favors.”

“Oh god yes, please. We’ve been arguing all week and to be honest, I’ve run out of the ability to give a fuck.” Neil said honestly.

Beckett immediately tapped out. I was pretty jealous of the fact that she could. Frannie must have seen something on my face. “Oh, come on, you guys have to help. We’ve been fighting about this for weeks. Angry sex is only fun for so long.”

There was some uncomfortable laughter…but more of the laughter was totally understanding of that statement. Once the laughter petered out, Dominique jumped right in. “Okay, well, wine glasses are totally out…they’re overdone and way too prom. Besides, even the expensive ones you can get for favors look cheap and they are neither memorable nor are they useful.”

Javier Esposito chimed in to agree with real world knowledge. “I know, right. My baby cousin she got married last spring and she gave out those new, trendy stemless wineglasses. Yeah, all the abuelas and mamas talked about her for months. And not in a good way. First of all, half of them broke before they made it home. And those that did make it home didn’t last a full week before people started ‘accidentally’ breaking them. Mainly because she only gave one per person and really, how many people have stemless wineglasses?” He glanced at Rick before amending, “and even if they do, do you really want another one that doesn’t match the ones you own or that you can’t use because those things are always ‘hand wash only’.” He grumbled.

Frannie pouted. “Well, there went my favorite option.”

Neil was intelligent enough not to gloat. Which turned out the be a good thing, because Castle killed his idea next. “Well, those do sound horrible…but they still sound more useful than the favors at the last wedding Mom and Lexia dragged me to.”

“I though the seed packets were adorable.” Alexia challenged her dad.

Castle gave her a hilarious look of disbelief. “Ha. First of all, they were dumb. We live in New York…who the hell has a garden in Manhattan. Second of all, yeah, let’s examine the primary purpose of the wedding favor. It is meant to give guests a fond remembrance of your nuptials. It is not meant to create a burdensome responsibility for those guests.”

“Same thing for those stupid little potted succulents.” Kevin Ryan jumped in. “Jenny wanted to give those out at our wedding. Thank god her mother talked her into just doing chocolate bars with our names on the label.”

Neil looked interested in that, but Francesca quickly shut that thought down. “Chocolate gives me migraines and I refuse to give out anything that I can’t enjoy myself.”

“What about mini-bottles?” Daniel suggested.

Neil put the kibosh on that one. “Too many of my colleagues could get called in at a moment’s notice. I’m not buying them any alcohol so they can blame me if they mess up and off a patient.”

Grant’s voice was quieter than anyone else’s, but so assured and strong that we all stopped to listen. “Why does your favor have to fit a traditional mold at all. What would you like to receive?”

Neil looked thoughtful while Francesca had an immediate answer. “I’d love to do a favor version of a welcome bag. So a small bag with our name and wedding date on the outside with, yes Neil a mini bottle…wine though not hard liquor, a pair of the collapsible flats for women and less than expensive flip flops for the guys, a small snack, some artisan soap and something special, oh and a little note from me and Neil thanking them for sharing in our day.”

“That’s good. I’d like that.” Dominique responded. “But you should include something that they can keep. Maybe not anything glass…oh, what about a tin bud vase or a coffee mug? But you can make it more meaningful by putting your couple quote or something meaningful in them.”

“To be fully seen by somebody, and then loved anyhow – that is a human offering that can border on miraculous.” Neil spoke with breathless awe the way he looked at Frannie in that moment told us all that he really had asked her to marry him not because he felt he could live with her…but because he knew he couldn’t live without her.” He cleared his throat and continued. “Uh, it’s a quote from Elizabeth Gilbert. She wrote ‘Eat, Pray, Love’.”

“Oh Neil, that’s beautiful. It’s exactly how I feel about you.” Francesca cooed. “Guys never saw past the exterior to really get to know me.”

I kicked Saul under the table before he could say that her veneer of crazy had done a lot to camouflage her true self, or something similar. Thankfully, Beckett interjected before he could even attempt to couch his thoughts in more diplomatic terms. “It is wonderful to find someone who sees exactly who you are and loves you for you. That is the kind of love that lasts a lifetime. I’ve heard people say that they loved someone despite their faults…but all that ends up doing is breeding resentment in the long run. Really, the only way to really love is almost unconditionally.”

“Hold up, wait, almost unconditionally?” Alexis Castle asked curiously.

Beckett nodded. “Yes, almost. There are some things that show you that your love was undeserved and shouldn’t be granted. Things like repeated infidelity, verbal or physical abuse…those should be and are rightly considered to be deal breakers.”

“Yah, I know that there is the whole theory of second chances…but Bryant, as much as I love you…the first time you cheat on me…will so totally be the last damn time for sure.” Nadia said in a calm voice that anyone who knew her well knew was the exact opposite of actually being calm. Frannie and I both knew why. Nadia rarely gave the emotion of her love outside of friendship-based love. She’d tried in the past. During college, one of the men she had trusted enough to show her real, full self to had used her bisexuality and their shared exploration thereof as his excuse for cheating on her. Just thinking about the beatdown Maddie, Frannie and I had visited upon that sonovabitch made me smile in a devious and rather evil kind of way. A smile that Frannie and I shared across the table. Only Neil and Saul seemed to notice.

Everyone else was paying more attention to Bryant’s assertion that he’d learned from past lessons and was too damn old to mess up the best relationship he’d ever found. I wondered for a moment how Daniel wasn’t at least a little offended at that since Bryant had been married to his mother. But I also knew that Daniel was a very intelligent man. However, Esposito didn’t know him as well. “Whoa. I mean, I think I’d be upset about that comment if my father said it about my mother. How are you not?”

Daniel chuckled, “if you’d ever met my mother…or seen the two of them interact, you’d wonder how on earth they lasted as a couple long enough to make it to the altar…let alone have me. Individually they are great parents and, for the most part, pretty great people. Together…they are the relationship equilivalent of Chernobyl-level badness waiting to happen. The longest they’ve been in the same place at the same time without arguing, and I mean viciously, was my grad school graduation. And I’m pretty sure that the only reason they didn’t argue was because we were in public and they both had on their best, company, manners. Granted, it didn’t really help at my undergrad graduation…”

“It would be funny if it weren’t so true. Or maybe it’s so funny because it is so true.” Bryant shrugged. “Mikayla is a fine woman. She has been a good mother to all her children. She’s just…well, let’s be honest, two severely high maintenance people, who both need constant attention and validation cannot be in relationship with each other for as long as we tried. Not without acknowledging the fact that both parties have external loci of identities and working very hard to be that validation for the other. For us, that conflict was made even worse by the fact that, I don’t care what her second husband says, I’m almost positive that, while Mikayla can achieve orgasms…she doesn’t actually care one way or another about sex and was perfectly happy only indulging in the activity to have children.”

Daniel looked a little queasy. “Gotta say, I could have gone my whole life without hearing that about my mother. Seriously, Dad…that was kind of gross.”

Bryant’s shrug was completely unconcerned. “I’d say I was sorry, but it’s the truth. Can’t apologize for telling the truth.”

Daniel just shook his head, while the rest of us had a damn good laugh at his pain. The rest of the evening was spent in great company enjoying some wonderful food and conversation. Sometime the very next day, Grant sent Frannie an email sourcing all the things she had hoped to have in the ‘favor bags’ as well as the bags themselves. He also had gathered a list of fifteen possibilities for unique, special, classy keepsake favors. She was so happy, she sent him an Edible Arrangement. Hell, to be honest, I kind of wanted to send him one my damn self. After she and Neil used Grant’s list to decide to give all the guests personalized gold bottle stoppers that would showcase her wedding colors on a removable placard that slid into the scrollwork atop the stoppers. And since it was a supplier that was known to KAMA’s team, Grant was able to negotiate such a great deal for them that, even with the cost of the favor bags, they could afford to give each guest two of the stoppers and still stay on budget.

Time was a funny thing. With Frannie, Nadia and myself all deliriously happy, and Maddie set to join us within just a few short months…time seemed to fly by. Before I realized it, September had bled into October. We were under contract on a space in the building we’d fallen in love with. It wasn’t the one we’d put in the six million offer for. That one had sold for seven and a half million the day after we’d submitted our, lower, offer. Instead, we had ended up getting a similarly large unit that needed a lot more work. But we got it for less than we’d offered for the more move-in ready space, so we decided not to complain too much. We divided the work between the four of us. Nadia and, a remotely connected, Madeline were working with Rosamund and Roman, our contractor from King Rose Construction. They had been our preferred general contractor agency for seven years. Together the four of them would ensure that everything would be exactly as we wanted it; while Frannie and I handled our ever-growing client list. My days lasted from eight to eight, but I was having the time of my life at work and I got to go home to my amazing husband every evening. We were right, Sam had regretfully had to pass on helping us create the mural for the nursery, but he had found us a great artist to help. Almost before I knew it, Sam’s contact and Seth Cohen were creating and painting our full room mural. Suri, Kurt and Sam’s go to fabric artist, she was hard at work making three different, theme appropriate crib bedding sets for us. Things were wild…but I wouldn’t change a single bit of it for all the money in the world.

Never Gonna Be Alone (NickelBack)  
Sue Sylvester PoV

There were occasions…very, very rare occasions…when I hated my life and cursed all the gods who’d created me. As I, rightly, consider myself to be a perfectly prim example of a superlative human being, those occasions were, as I said, so rare as to be statistically irrelevant, but they did happen. Usually the first few months back to school were an exemplary time for me. That was even more true since I’d finally wrested control of McKinley High from that antiquated, niggardly miser Figgins. The previous school year, I’d retained all but one of the teachers who had survived the purge of talentless hacks that I’d instituted when I first became principal. That one teacher was sixty-four and had been teaching home-economics since nineteen seventy-three. Sanderson would be missed…she made the best strudel I’d ever tasted…she was a good teacher, but she’d more than earned her retirement. Her replacement was a certified nutritionist who would probably be less popular at the faculty potlucks, but Clarkson was a good egg. Without prompting, he’d worked with the lunchroom slatterns to revamp our meal offerings and stuck to the budget. I was considering having him look at the Cheerio’s meal replacement shakes…just to make sure that my minions were getting all their necessary nutrients. Half of them were anorexic or bulimic and the shakes were the only calories I could get them to willingly ingest. Of course, the shakes had the added benefit of serving as meal replacements for the ones who needed to drop some fat and gain more muscle. Honestly, given the poor offerings the cafeteria had put forth in previous years, I’d tended to prefer them to actual food myself quite often.

As I was saying, my teacher retention rate was good. I had high student growth numbers. The student’s grades and standardized test scores were up across the board. I’d managed to pry enough money out of the school board to hire two new mathematics teachers who had master’s degrees in math and statistics. That allowed us to offer more AP classes in those areas. My dropout rate was the best in the district. Of course, it was. Even the most idiotic of those moronic kids knew that if they dropped out, I would hunt them down and force them back to class using methods some might consider illegal…those Geneva Conventions were a bitch…but I was personally fine with. Actually, I wouldn’t be forced to compel those morons to complete their educations myself. My husband’s connections would certainly be available to show the troglodytes the errors of their ways.

I’d also increased our guidance department to get us far closer to the appropriate number for a school of our size. McKinley wasn’t a huge school…we only had twenty-seven hundred and sixty-three students enrolled that year. The American School Counselor Association recommended a two hundred and fifty to one ratio for high school guidance departments. That meant that to be considered among the best, we needed twelve counselors. My first year at the helm of McKinley, I’d hired two new counselors and added a third right before the end of the year. Administratively, Fun-Sized Lucille Ball would be a perfect head of the department…because the less kids she needed to interact with the more effective she tended to be. Kids were messy and her OCD wasn’t just aggravated by physical messes. But by the same turn, she was instrumental in getting more and more McKinley students into college. She had an unerring ability to, gently, help them find a school that was right for them. I knew that people thought I hated her. I didn’t. I hadn’t liked her for a long time. I’d, correctly, believed that she had absolutely pathetic taste in men…but she’d fixed that. I’d found her optimism sickening…but life had made her more pragmatic and she was far less obsequious than I’d once found her. Besides, she loved my little Jeanie and the feeling was mutual.

It also didn’t hurt that thanks to Lil Mama Thornton, Lady Lips and Jail Bird publicly talking her up on several different occasions, by name, had helped to extract the craniums of several members of the Allen County School Board from their massive and flabby asses. After the Ginger Pixie married her Aryan dreamboat, and those same board members saw that KAMA was still close enough to their high school guidance counselor to not only attend but sing at said wedding…they suddenly found me the funds for three new counselors and to revamp and restructure the guidance offices. Of course, a little extortion allowed me full control of choosing the construction team and Don had helped me to make sure the new guidance department was exactly as I wanted it to be without going even a dime over budget. That included a small private bathroom for the head of the department. The less endearing Scully knockoff would be far more efficient if she wasn’t having to leave her office every two hours to go all the way to the gym to use Bieste and my private facilities. I realized that it was one of the best choices I’d ever made when she came back from her whirlwind European honeymoon with a certain glow.

And since the soulless minions of the devil that spawned her made sure that she could never go into direct sunlight for more than ten minutes at a time without becoming engulfed in flames, I wasn’t referring to a tan. In fact, PillsBunny’s particular glow was the main motivation behind the last-minute addition of the thirty-six square foot, three piece bathroom. It had also necessitated taking roughly two and a half feet from the offices on either side of her to give her a slightly bigger office than in the original planning. But the biggest thing it necessitated was the same thing that was making me hate my own existence that very nice September afternoon.

The heathens had been back to crowding our halls for seven to nine hours a day, for an entire month, so it was time for the first, real, faculty meeting of the year. We’d had several during pre-planning…but those were mostly introductory and perfunctory. The meetings during the school year were the ones with meat to them. Especially since I had banned any and all student related gossip from the meetings. I didn’t give a rat’s ass if they gossiped about their own pathetic lives…but we were educators not TMZ paparazzo. As far as I was concerned, faculty meetings had three main purposes. The first of those was to build positive relationships among the staff…and instill the proper fear of myself and the rest of my administration in them. We also focused on professional development. At every meeting, we discussed which teachers needed to further their own educations, we talked about classroom management techniques that worked and which ones didn’t. I had instituted peer-mentorship where the older teachers took the newer ones under their wings. That had actually served two purposes. I no longer had to worry about some hot young idiot with more charm than brains convincing a teacher to let them out of trouble or some other stupid first and second year teacher mistakes. And conversely, I no longer had to beat the older teachers into submission to get them to correctly utilize classroom technology and the computer-based grading system.

Another change that I’d been able to make, primarily thanks to a bit of blackmail material I had on Melinda Gates. Though why she was so worried about people possibly finding out that she’d been a pee-wee cheerleader, I couldn’t understand. After all, she grew up in Texas. Every little girl in Texas did at least a little time on a pee-wee cheer squad. Still, thanks to a certain picture, the school’s entire computer system had been upgraded. And I’d had it tested by two trusted employees of Don’s who’d designed and ensured the security of his hotels’ computer system. 

After Midget Midge had to excuse herself for the third time in the course of a two-hour meeting…I knew that it was time for a hard conversation. One I didn’t want to ever have to have…let alone with a subordinate -slash- coworker. I caught El-Gigante and Ethel Merman and we were seated on the couch in the Ginger Wonder’s new office when she came out of her bathroom. “Alright, Soul-Thief…I’ve been waiting patiently. When are you going to come clean?” I asked her immediately to catch her off guard.

She just rolled her huge ass eyes. “Sue, you know that having red hair doesn’t mean that I steal people’s souls.” Then she paused in confusion. “Come clean about what?”

Seeing the pure confusion in her eyes, in that moment, I realized that I very well might have to explain the birds and the bees to Carrot Top’s ventriloquist dummy. That was the very second, I had my fifth lifetime moment of self-hatred. “Are you an idiot or did your parents just refuse to explain to you where babies come from?”

“I am not an idiot and my parents made sure that I had comprehensive sex education. Now why on earth are you asking me that?”

Bieste answered for me…which I would usually hate but her idiomatic phrasing did tend to be hilarious when she was flustered, “Probably because we figured out that you and Hal’s batter was already forming a bun when you walked in the first day of pre-planning. And now you’re always running out of places like your ass is on fire either because your belly’s quivering or your eyeballs are floating.”

It was definitely worth taking a slight step from the fore front just to see the look of horror that crossed the face of my favorite Ginger Pygmy. It also gave me a newish insight into the friendship of Bieste and Pillsbury’s new husband. It took Shannon Bieste a pretty significant amount of comfort and closeness to call any male…let alone a married man, by his first name. For her it was a respect thing, it had taken Don almost a full year to get her to call him something other than Motta. Though, honestly, I was pretty sure that she was using Don as the honorific…not as the diminution of his first name. I exchanged a laughing glance with Cochran and then took back over the control of our conversation. “You have, at least, started to suspect that you’re up the duff…right? Do not make me go back to insulting your intelligence again. Because we both know that I will.”

“My intelligence has never been in question.” Emma huffed. “I will grant that my taste in men has, at certain points in the past, left much to be desired. But I’ve never been stupid. I know that my body is undergoing certain changes. I’ve just decided not to get my hopes up for something that, given things that are in no way any of your business, is more than a little unlikely. I have my yearly well woman visit in three weeks and if there is anything to be known…I’ll know it then.”

Cochran, Bieste and all wore the same look of shocked disbelief. “You really think that the three of us are going to manage to patiently wait for three weeks to find out if you’re pregnant or not?” Shels said with an incredulous gawp. Her hand was on her belly and I could almost see her planning play dates and possibly a betrothal if their children weren’t the same gender…or the same gender and they wanted it that way. Neither of their parents would care. And if I was wrong, which I never was, I’d kidnap the kiddos and let them be themselves.

“You’re just going to have to wait. Hal and I have entirely too much happening to move my appointment forward and I would certainly want him there. I believe that it goes without saying and we can all be honest about that fact that I will never be able to take a home pregnancy test.” Her voice was stern and strong. “I’ve already increased my meetings with Dr. Harmon back up to twice a week. In addition to all that he’s doing with the newly opened Rangeman office, Hal has started working with George, Sander and their team to build our home…because a baby in the two-bedroom condo we share just wouldn’t work for any of us. At least not past six weeks or so.”

I saw an impending freak out brewing in her eyes. “Alright, take a deep breath. If you hyperventilate on us, we’ll rush you to St. Rita’s and use that as an excuse to get you tested anyway. Secondly, you and the Farm-Boy-Solider are going to be fine. Even if things aren’t perfectly the way you want them when you push what I am sure will be a perfectly normal sized human being out of your undersized vagina, it won’t matter because when you hold your child for the first time…nothing else matters but loving them and making sure that the rest of the world is never allowed to harm a hair on their head. And yes, I am only saying the child will be normal sized because Hal is a giant and you are a fairy.”

“Sue, why is it that even when you are trying to be kind…you are still the most crass and insulting person in any room?” The quiet exasperation in Erma’s voice amused me so much I answered her.

“Because I’m just built that way.” I returned with a self-assuredness that couldn’t be feigned not bought in stores.

My experiences of abject horror at what my life had become had been spaced pretty well in the timeline of the life of Sue Sylvester. One in my later teens, another in my mid-twenties. I’d not experienced any in my forties. I could have lived without the two I’d had in my thirties, but even those were separated by almost the entire decade. The fact that the fifth and sixth happened in the same week…well, that was just not to be born. And yet, that following Monday, when I returned to my office after a surprise Cheerio lunch time practice, sitting on the couch in my office was someone who looked almost exactly like me. If I were five years younger, had a serious need to put my sexuality on front street and a definite addiction to a whole myriad of painkillers. “I’ll be damned. Samantha said that Samuel’s high school principal was one of us…I didn’t think she was telling the truth. I mean, most of us are smart as all fuck, but for a Puckett to be a card-carrying, member of the soul sucking, joy breaking, rule creating member of the establishment, there’s something really, inherently wrong with that.”

I rolled my eyes. My mother had spoken very little about her family. Just that they preferred to dance on the line of the law. I really only knew their name and the fact that there were enough of them to populate an entire island chain because, as Landlocked Ariel had suspected, I’d called the ‘call only if something happens to your father and you and Jean are going to be put into the custody of the state’ number and spoken to one of Mother’s many cousins. “Samantha…” I rolled the name around my mouth like it was foul tasting. It wasn’t. I actually kind of liked the girl. She was rude, abrasive, cruel and athletic. She kind of reminded me of a young Sue Sylvester. “That’s the one on the stupid web-show with the flat chested brunette prop-comic. Isn’t she already married with triplets? From your tone, she’s someone you consider personally yours, so I take it you’re her mother, Pamela.” I was a curious individual. I knew the entire Puckett family tree…and through several of my connections, I managed to keep it completely up to date. “Surprised to see you this far away from a casino or this far south of the Canadian border.”

Her face, a fun house mirror version of my own, showed only the most subtle hints that conveyed that she was impressed by my intelligence. I got the feeling that while she had a fairly high level of intelligence, she wasn’t one who ‘cottoned to book learning’, she seemed to be far more cunning than traditionally smart. “Good, Glad I don’t have to worry with doing the whole ‘you’re a Puckett, Sue,’ spcheal. Anyway, with the discovery that there was a full on missing one of us, who has a kid who had to go through a lot of bullshit without the family’s awareness or assistance…such that it is…the elders want to consolidate the entire clan. Next summer, the family reunion is mandatory for all of us…you and your family too. If you can get the word to Aunt Deloris.”

I rolled my eyes. “Her name is Doris.”

Pam stared back. “Her birth certificate and the family bible say her name is Deloris. We added you and the original Jean. Good on you for naming your kid after your sister. I paid my respects and got the rest of the information that the bible was missing.”

I couldn’t help my snort of derision. “Pucketts don’t really seem the ‘family bible’ kind of people to me.”

She huffed out a laugh. “We don’t read the damn thing, but it’s got a record of our family going back to before the Civil War. We don’t need to do any dumb ass DNA tests. We know our history, and I think that you and I are prime examples that Pucketts breed true.”

“I don’t look much like my mother.” I reasoned.

“No, you look like me and your grandmother and the Triplets…who we’d thought were twins. Anyway…trust me, you’re definitely a fucking Puckett.” I opened my mouth to rebut and she cut me off, “look, next summer…be prepared to spend some time near Seattle. Be prepared to bring your hubby and youngest daughter. Cousin Gabby says that Samuel and his crew will probably have your oldest with them in Europe…they are the only ones who’ll be excused. And even then, supposedly there is supposed to be some way for them to be there for the meeting. My Sam’s husband said that he can make it work.”

“Fine, do you at least have email so we can make this a painless and with as little interpersonal contact as humanly possible?”

“Yeah, you are definitely all Puckett. Congrats on all your cheerleading awards.” I was unsurprised that she sneered at the concept of cheerleading. “I cannot wait to see how your competitive ass does in the family war games.” She chuckled. “Warn your hubby, I’m coming for dinner and staying at your place tonight.”

I looked Pamela up and down. An evil smile overtook my face. “That’s acceptable…but I’m not warning him. I’m putting you in a track suit and seeing if he can tell the difference.” Never let it be said that Sue Sylvester cannot make the best of even to most god-awful situations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Summer Everyone.  
> I hope to get back to something resembling a real, concrete posting schedule soon...just not sure when, exactly, that will be.
> 
> You guys please read, enjoy, review (& send up good thoughts/vibes or prayers.)
> 
> Thanks everyone.
> 
> TTFN,
> 
> Anni

**Author's Note:**

> I apologize for running late with this new story.   
> I hope that everyone had a wonderful summer.   
> I hope that all of you will take a moment to leave me a comment and let me know what you think of the story. 
> 
> RIP Queen Aretha Franklin (Thank you for the beautiful gift of your voice.)  
> RIP Senator John McCain (We almost never agreed on the substance of the issues facing our nation, but at least I felt you were an adversary worthy of my respect.)  
> RIP Burt Reynolds (Thank you for many, many, many wonderful hours of entertainment.)
> 
> TTFN,   
> Anni


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